



Class J? Z JT 


Book.JS.JZ5 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 





















































“lettuce all nice, fresh; how much-a you like?” 


HE SAID 






















Jessica of the Camerons 


SYLVIA STEWART 



PHILADELPHIA 

THE UNION PRESS 

1816 CHESTNUT STREET 



Copyright , 1924, 

By the American Sunday-School Union 


NOV 52 1924 

©Cl A80S967 


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To the Young Daughters op America, 

“Standing, with reluctant feet, 

Where the brook and river meet,” 

Who Will Be the Mothers op the Coming Generation. 













CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Expected Visitor. 7 

II The Arrival. 23 

III Getting Acquainted. 42 

IV The “Nanny-Man”. 66 

V Getting Better Acquainted. 88 

VI Days op Long Ago. 114 

VII The “Joy-Ride”. 140 

VIII Shadows. 158 

IX The Home Amusement Club. 178 

X The Halloween Party.202 

XI The Birthday “Shower”. 227 

XII The Giovannis’ Thanksgiving.253 

XIII Christmas “ Goodfellows”. 271 

XIV “Westward Ho!”. 305 


5 























Chapter I 


THE EXPECTED VISITOR 

“Margie! Margie! Wait for me!” 

Jessica Cameron came dancing down the steps of 
one of the prettiest homes on a certain avenue in 
Cleveland, Ohio, her brown eyes shining, her every 
ruffle and ribbon fluttering with excitement. 
Promptly at her call her chosen schoolgirl affinity, 
Marjorie Sheldon, half a block ahead, changed the 
impetuous skippety-skip, with which she had been 
propelling herself schoolward, to a sedate backward 
movement, accomplished principally on her heels, 
until joined by her friend. 

“I’ve got the most loveliest news to tell you,” 
began Jessica, breathlessly. “Papa just got the 
letter—” 

“Most loveliest!” mimicked Marjorie. “That 
will be a cracker-jack for my list of incorrect ex¬ 
pressions this afternoon and will make ten for me. 
How many have you got?” 

Marjorie was not indifferent to her friend’s 
“most loveliest” news, but she was a decided tease, 
7 


8 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


and liked, moreover, to invite Jessica’s protest 
against the consideration of lessons outside of school 
hours—a protest which came promptly. 

“Oh, bother your old grammar! I hadn’t but two. 
I’ve got another though, since your latest con¬ 
tribution, for 'have got’ is as incorrect as 'most 
loveliest.’ ” 

“Ha! Ha!” laughed Marjorie. “You just said 
'have got’ yourself.” 

“Listen, Margie dear, and let me tell you,” 
giving her chum’s arm a gentle shake. “My Kansas 
grandmother is coming next week to make us a long 
visit and maybe she will stay all winter.” 

“Your Kansas grandmotherf Say, kid, I never 
knew you had a grandmother, Kansas or any other 
kind. I’m sure I never heard you speak of her.” 

Jessica flushed slightly. “Well, you don’t usu¬ 
ally talk about your own folks very much outside 
your own family, do you, especially if you don’t 
know them very well? Mamma and papa talk about 
her a whole lot, and so does Don.” 

“Did you ever see her?” 

“Not since I was a weenty, teenty girl. Mamma 
took me out to Kansas with her when I was only 
two years old; but Don spent the summer with her 
three years ago, and he never gets tired telling what 
a good time he had.” 

“Where did you say she lives? In Kansas?” 


THE EXPECTED VISITOR 


“Yes; but papa says that if he once gets her settled 
in Cleveland, he is never going to let her go back. 
She writes the loveliest letters to mamma, like 
the letters you read in the magazines sometimes, 
To My Daughter’; only they are funnier and more 
interesting. She always sends messages, too, to 
Don, and Harry, and me. What makes you look 
so solemn, Margie? You don’t seem glad for me, 
a bit.” 

“Maybe you won’t be glad for yourself before 
she goes home again,” answered Marjorie, sagely. 
“Sadie Fowler’s grandmother came here from 
Nebraska—that’s close to Kansas, isn’t it?—a year 
or so ago, to visit her folks, and she wasn’t nice at 
all. Sadie said she was just awful glad when she 
got tired of Cleveland and went to live with an uncle 
of hers in New York.” 

“How wasn’t she nice?” interrogated Jessica, 
faintly. 

“Oh, she was just so different,” returned Marjorie, 
carelessly. “Sadie’s folks are awfully rich, you 
know, and keep no end of servants; but her grand¬ 
mother used to insist on making her own bed just 
as soon as she got out of it in the morning, which 
would be as early as five o’clock, sometimes, a good 
two hours before anybody except the servants was 
up; and she would go poking around the house like 
a spook, or a burglar, and fuss about having her 


10 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


breakfast so late; and when Mrs. Fowler had the 
cook send an early breakfast to her room, she com¬ 
plained worse than ever; and said 'she just couldn't 
eat her meals alone, it was so lonesome.’ Mrs. Fowler 
couldn’t get her to wear a thing that was a bit 
stylish; she wore the queerest bonnets and old- 
fashioned dresses, and Augusta Fowler was so 
ashamed to have her friends see her that she told 
some of them, at first, that she was a distant rela¬ 
tion of her father’s who had been kind to him when 
he was a boy, and they felt they just had to treat 
her well. But she always called Mrs. Fowler 
‘darter’ when she spoke to her before folks, and 
that gave Augusta away. She used to spank little 
Johnny Fowler whenever she caught him sliding 
down the banisters; she said ‘it wore out his clothes 
too fast’; and she boxed Sadie’s ears ever so often 
for nothing at all but talking back to her; ‘being 
sassy,’ she called it. I don’t suppose your grand¬ 
mother would do anything like that, though,” she 
added, as she suddenly became aware of the cloud 
that was gathering on her friend’s sunny face. 
“You can’t tell a thing about these old people, 
though, especially if they have been brought up 
differently from folks nowadays, as most of ’em 
have.” 

“I don’t believe my grandmother would be any¬ 
thing like that,” protested Jessica, weakly. “She 


THE EXPECTED VISITOR 


11 


has a fine home out in the oil belt somewhere—a 
big ranch, papa says—but she is going to let the 
man and his wife who live on it take care of it this 
winter. Mamma hasn’t seen her for a good many 
years, so papa wrote to her without mamma’s 
knowing anything about it, to come and spend the 
winter with us, and she is coming next week in 
time for mamma’s birthday anniversary.” 

“There’s always so many funny things in the 
papers about Kansas and Kansas people,” Marjorie 
rambled on, reflectively. “There was that Mrs. 
Nation, you know, who went around knocking 
things to pieces in saloons. Claude read the fun¬ 
niest thing about her smashing her own knee with a 
hatchet one day because she found out there was a 
‘joint’ in it. I laughed myself nearly sick over that. 
Then there was that Mary Ellen Lease, who went 
all over the country making queer political speeches, 
while her husband stayed at home and took care 
of the kids and did the housework. They lived in 
a sort of Indian wigwam, which they called Medicine 
Lodge. Claude read a funny thing about him, too— 
that he was such a good housekeeper that he never 
tucked the dishrag away in the corner of the sink 
any more, but washed it out and hung it up over the 
dishpan. There was a Jerry Simpson, too, a long 
time ago, who never wore any socks—‘sockless 
Jerry’ they called him in the papers—and he was a 


12 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


congressman too. And I don’t remember how many 
more, but Kansas is said to be the home of freaks. 
I wonder if your grandmother knows any of those 
funny people. How old is she?” 

Jessica looked doubtful. “I don’t know, exactly. 
We have her picture hanging in mamma’s room, 
but it was taken a good while ago. She must 
be fifty or more; she must be over sixty; for she was 
a little baby at the time of the war.” 

“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed Marjorie. “She 
must be awful old; wouldn’t think your folks would 
dare to let her travel around alone! Wouldn’t it 
be dreadful if she has rheumatism or asthma—all 
oldish people get something the matter with ’em— 
and you’d have to have the doctor coming to see her 
all the time? Mrs. Titus’ father, who lives two 
blocks west of us, isn’t sixty yet, and Mrs. Titus 
says he is more trouble than all the children put 
together; and they have six.” 

Jessica slipped her hand from her friend’s arm, 
and her face assumed a very decided frown. “I 
think you are perfectly horrid, Margie Sheldon,” 
she cried indignantly. “Grandma Keith is my 
mamma’s very own mother; and I know she couldn’t 
be a bit like any of those dreadful people you have 
been talking about. She has an auto and runs it 
herself; and papa says she manages her big ranch 
as well as a man could. She lives near a big uni- 


THE EXPECTED VISITOR 


13 


versity town, and she goes in the best society; for 
she tells mamma in her letters about going to re¬ 
ceptions and committee meetings. She couldn’t be 
anything but nice—so there! If you make believe 
like that about her any more, I’ll not even ask 
you to come to see her when she gets here, so I 
won’t!” 

The two girls had reached the great building where 
they attended school; and, more hurt than she would 
have cared to admit, by her friend’s careless chatter, 
Jessica flounced into the cloakroom, unheeding 
Marjorie’s half-laughing, half-serious protest that 
“she was only just talking, and did not intend to 
make fun of her grandmother.” 

“As if any of mamma’s folks could be like that 
horrid, bent-up, old Mr. Titus!” she thought angrily 
to herself, as she passed to her seat at the summons 
of the bell. “I just hope Grandmother Keith will 
be lovely, when she comes, and I guess that will 
take some of the conceit out of Miss Margie Shel¬ 
don!” 

She evaded her friend’s questioning glances in 
her direction as much as possible throughout the 
afternoon session, and ignored altogether the plead¬ 
ing look that friend bestowed upon her as they stood 
together for a few minutes at the blackboard. The 
paper containing a half-dozen chocolate creams— 
her favorite confection—which the repentant Mar- 


14 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


jorie left on her desk in passing she flirted promptly 
to the floor as soon as her teacher’s back was 
turned; and it was as quickly appropriated by the 
grinning red-headed boy across the aisle, who was 
Jessica’s pet abhorrence. 

This incident did not tend to improve her injured 
feelings, and she purposely remained after school to 
ask Miss Dunn’s assistance in solving a difficult 
problem. In answer to Marjorie’s subdued inquiry 
as to whether she should wait for her Jessica re¬ 
plied, very pointedly for her, that she didn’t know 
when she was going home, but she knew the way. 

If kind Miss Dunn noticed “the rift within the 
lute” between the two usually warm friends, she 
wisely kept her own counsel and gave her pupil 
the help which she saw had not been needed; and 
Jessica walked slowly homeward alone, her mind 
dwelling more and more on her friend’s thoughtless 
speech. 

What if it should happen to be true, as Marjorie 
had inferred, that her grandmother should be— 
well, queer, like the people her chum had men¬ 
tioned? Pride, pride in her own appearance, in her 
perfectly appointed home, her ideal father and 
mother, and her two fine brothers—this was one 
of Jessica Cameron’s weaknesses, and it gave her 
many uneasy hours in the week that followed. 

“Do you remember Grandmother Keith very 


THE EXPECTED VISITOR 


15 


well, Don?” she asked her older brother, a lad of 
sixteen, as the two sat together over their lessons 
that evening in the cosy library at home. 

“Well, I should snicker!” was the boyish reply. 
“And I can also remember what lickin’ good cookies 
and doughnuts she used to make, too; and what a 
lot of fun I had out there on that old ranch!” 

As Jessica had told Marjorie, her brother had 
spent the summer with his grandmother, some 
three years before, on the Kansas farm, having 
been sent out to take “rugged treatment,” as he 
called it, after a winter’s round with scarlet fever. 

“Tell me something about her,” invited his 
sister, pushing her history aside, and laying her 
head on her folded arms. “How did you have fun?” 

“Oh, there were some old coal mines—surface 
mines, they called them—in the timber on grand¬ 
mother’s farm, and the boys from town—it was only 
a mile away—used to come out there and play Tob- 
ber.’ We would make believe to rob banks, and hold 
up stagecoaches, and everything like that, using 
the coalholes to hide in. On the next farm there 
was the biggest mulberry grove I ever saw; it was 
just alive with crows, a regular crow colony, and 
the man who owned the farm used to let us boys go 
over there any time, and shoot crows. They were 
so troublesome that he gave us a nickel apiece for 
every crow we killed; and some days we would get 


16 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


as many as a dozen. Then I went to the river 
sometimes, too. It was five miles away, but grand¬ 
mother would always let me go when there were 
big boys or men going over on a fishing excursion. 
There was a cave over there so large you could 
almost get lost in it, and there were hundreds of 
names carved on a big rock that hung over the 
front of it. I nearly wore out my best knife one 
day—” 

“But I want you to tell me something about 
grandmother,” interrupted Jessica. “You’ve told 
me about that cave dozens of times! Was she 
always nice to you?” 

Donald looked up queerly. “Nice to me? What 
do you mean, sis? Isn’t a fellow’s grandmother 
always nice to him, that is, when he does the square 
thing?” the latter clause hastily added as a sudden 
recollection came to him of a certain night when 
he had remained away far past bedtime, and had 
found only bread and milk awaiting him for supper, 
though the cooky jar had been replenished only 
that morning and there were two fresh blackberry 
pies on the pantry shelf. 

Then Jessica unburdened her soul. The matter 
was something she could not discuss with her 
mother—“grandma’s very own little girl,” as she 
thought to herself—but her chum’s insinuations had 
robbed her grandmother’s coming of all its pleasur- 


THE EXPECTED VISITOR 


17 


able anticipations, and she longed to confide her 
doubts and fears to someone. 

“Margie says that most old people are cranky and 
fussy, and sometimes sickly and awfully cross,” 
she ventured, doubtfully. “I wondered if perhaps 
Grandmother Keith might be that way. I looked 
at her picture up in mamma’s room; but it was 
taken nearly ten years ago, and you couldn’t have 
much of an idea from it how she looks now. She 
isn’t so pretty in the picture, but she is awfully 
young-looking, and kind-looking too.” 

“That picture doesn’t look anything like her. It 
isn’t half as good-looking as she is, and I wouldn’t 
give a minute’s thought to anything that Margie 
says about her,” declared her brother warmly, 
noting, for the first time, the cloud on his sister’s 
brow and the gloom apparent in her tone. “That 
girl knows less every day. Grandmother’s a peachy 
and she isn’t old and infirm, either; and if we can 
persuade her to stay all winter, I’m going to coax 
dad mighty hard to let us both go home with her 
next summer. If we could both get a mild case of 
measles, or something or other, early next spring, 
and get sent out there to recruit up, wouldn’t it be 
jolly?” 

Jessica smiled, but her smile was somewhat for¬ 
lorn. “I am afraid that wouldn’t work,” she 
answered. “There would be Harry to be thought 


18 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


of, too, and if one of us was sick and not the other, 
it wouldn’t be so 'jolly’ for the one that had to be 
shut away from mother for three weeks, like I was 
when you had scarlet fever.” 

Donald grinned. “It did take you a long time to 
get used to saying good-night through two doors 
and across a hall, didn’t it? You should have com¬ 
forted yourself with the thought that there was 
nobody around to keep you poked up all the time, 
to do your w T ork. By the way, sis, Grandmother 
Keith is the worst person to keep busy I ever saw 
in all my life.” 

“Is she worse than mamma?” inquired Jessica, 
her spirits sinking once more; for Jessica Cameron 
was undeniably indolent. 

“Mamma isn’t a circumstance,” declared Donald, 
decidedly. “Grandmother can do more things, and 
do them easier, than anyone else I know. But 
speaking of work, we must cut out this gabble, or I 
will get zero on this geometry lesson tomorrow morn¬ 
ing.” 

Jessica was very fond of her big brother Donald, 
who seldom teased her as Marjorie’s older brother 
sometimes did her chum; and now she felt some¬ 
what comforted by Don’s assurance that grand¬ 
mother was “a peach,” even if the information 
seemed a trifle vague. She put away her history— 
she could not study with anything else on her mind— 


THE EXPECTED VISITOR 


19 


promising herself that she would rise early and 
complete the scarcely-looked-over lesson, a promise 
that Don would have laughed at if she had voiced 
it openly, and, going up to the nursery, she indulged 
in her usual romp with her small brother, Harry, 
before Nora, the maid, should tuck him away for 
the night. This put her in better spirits, and she 
practiced her music lesson with extra care, then 
said good-night to her brother, who was still ab¬ 
sorbed in his studies, and went quietly away to bed. 

Alone, however, in her dear, white bedroom, all 
the doubts and forebodings which had been con¬ 
jured up by Marjorie’s careless comments revived, 
and would not be banished. Shadowy visions of all 
the ugly, homely people she had ever known or 
read of came trooping before her eyes: Mary Mc- 
Taggart’s grandmother who, it was reported, was 
nearly one hundred years old, and was toothless 
and nearly blind; old Mrs. Manley, who lived over 
on Prospect Avenue, and who, though worth many 
thousands of dollars, was so niggardly that she per¬ 
sisted in piecing quilts for a living, and carrying 
home her own marketing; Hazel Lee’s grandfather, 
who because of exceeding deafness always shouted 
“Hey” at her when she addressed him, which al¬ 
ways made her jump—these real beings, as well as 
all the dwarfed, misshapen goblin men and women 
of her fairy stories (and she had read many), in- 


20 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


vaded her quiet room like so many veritable human 
beings. The result was that when her mother, who 
had been out with her father to hear a noted lec¬ 
turer, slipped into the room for a parting look at 
this “apple of her eye,” Jessica lay with wide, 
staring eyes, and cheeks upon which there was an 
excess of color. 

“I supposed you would be asleep, little daughter,” 
said the gentle voice. “You are not sick?” laying 
a soft hand against the flushed cheek. 

Jessica shook her head. It was in her mind to 
confide in this unfailing comforter—there had never 
been any secrets between them—but through the 
tender concern for herself in her mother’s tones 
the girl suddenly became aware of a deeper note of 
joy; the dear mother-eyes were alight with it. 

“You are glad because grandmamma is coming, 
aren’t you, mamma?” she queried, half doubtfully. 

An emphatic hug and a royal smile were her 
answer, before her mother added, “Suppose you 
had not seen your mother, Jessica, for ten years, 
and all at once you found you were to have her in 
your own home for a whole winter! This is, indeed, 
a lovely surprise papa has given us for mamma’s 
birthday gift, big enough to reach around the 
whole family. We will all enjoy grandma.” 

“Does she look like the picture of her in your 
room?” questioned Jessica. 



THE EXPECTED VISITOR 


21 


“Yes and no. That is not a very good picture of 
grandmother,” answered Mrs. Cameron. “But it 
was the best one we could get at the time, and I 
was so hungry for the sight of her when your little 
sister Grace left us, that I was quite foolish about 
it; so papa had that picture enlarged from the best 
photograph we had at the time, so that I could have 
it hung on the wall to look at.” 

“That was eight years ago,” said Jessica, softly. 
“Why didn’t she come to you then?” 

“She was out in Oregon with my only brother, 
Horace, who needed her then even worse than I,” 
was the quiet response. “He had just lost his wife 
and his only child—your Aunt Kate and little 
cousin Lucy—in a frightful railroad accident in 
which both were burned to death; and mother was 
with him for several years. He married again five 
years ago, and he did not need her so much, so she 
came back to Kansas. She takes an active part in 
the affairs of her home community, has a good many 
acres of land leased out in the oil and gas region 
which is being developed in her part of the state, 
and, in looking after these and managing the large 
ranch where she lives, she has been such a busy 
woman that it has not seemed convenient for her 
to make us a visit. But we will make her so much 
at home this winter, will we not, little daughter, 
that she will not wish to leave us for Kansas again? 


22 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


She is to have the big room next to yours. We will 
begin fitting it up for her tomorrow, and I shall 
depend on my little Jessica to look after all her 
small needs and wishes, and help to make her winter 
with us a happy one.” 

‘Til try, mamma,” and, returning sleepily her 
mother’s warm kiss, the young girl went com¬ 
fortably away at last on her deferred journey to 
“Slumberland,” and dreamed that a lovely old lady, 
with snow-white hair, and a dress of shimmering 
silk, was carrying her off to Kansas in a beautiful 
motor car! 


Chapter II 


THE ARRIVAL 

For Jessica, the next few days went by on wings. 
If she had any further misgivings regarding the 
personality of the expected guest, she kept them to 
herself and, outside of school hours and duties, 
threw every waking minute into the plans for her 
grandmother's reception and entertainment. 

After Marjorie's frank, offhand apology, which 
came as promptly next morning as Marjorie her¬ 
self, the subject of the expected guest was scarcely 
mentioned between the two girls; but, though 
Jessica had graciously extended the desired for¬ 
giveness, a shadow of reserve remained between 
them for the remainder of the week, and prevented 
Jessica from admitting her chum to her confidence 
during the time of the home preparations. 

* “I’ll forgive her, of course,” she had thought to 
herself, “for if I didn't, however could I say 'for¬ 
give us our debts as ,' when I say my prayers; but 
I just hope, I do, that I will have such a lovely 
grandmother to surprise her with that she'll be 
ashamed she talked that way.” 

23 


24 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Though the time passed quickly, bringing at 
last her mother’s birthday anniversary and the day 
of grandmother’s coming, the anxiety of the waiting 
was almost too much for the sensitive little girl, 
and even her father noticed her attitude of strained 
expectancy. 

“Jessica seems to be all worked up over mother’s 
coming,” he remarked to his wife. “I do not re¬ 
member ever to have seen her so excited.” 

“I am afraid I have allowed her to over-interest 
herself in arranging mother’s room, without in¬ 
tending to do so,” rejoined Mrs. Cameron. “She 
is not given to overwork, as you know; but she has 
seemed so enthusiastic over the furnishing and 
arrangement that it was hard to refuse her help. I 
do not know what she anticipates, Dick,” with a 
gay little laugh, “but, from some of her remarks and 
suggestions, I fancy she expects to find mother a 
decrepit, half-invalid octogenarian. She kept at 
Donald until he gave up his favorite hassock to 
put under mother’s writing desk, which, by the 
way, is a great puzzle to her because of its size and 
businesslike appearance. And today I discovered 
her examining the hot-water bottle, in the medicine 
chest, to make sure it was ready for service.” 

Mr. Cameron laughed heartily. “Well, her sus¬ 
pense is about over; but, from the little I saw of 
mother when I made that flying trip to Kansas 


THE ARRIVAL 


25 


with Don three years ago, I imagine Jessica will 
have the surprise of her life when she comes.” 

“I am hoping much from mother’s influence on 
the child this winter,” continued Mrs. Cameron. 
‘‘I have tried in every possible way to encourage in 
Jessica a spirit of industry—I am afraid I have al¬ 
most nagged her at times—but my efforts seem to 
be of little avail. Miss Dunn tells me she is doing 
very indifferent work at school this fall, and she 
certainly does not exert herself at home. If she 
were anyone else’s daughter than yours and mine, 
Dick, I fear I would look on her as downright 
lazy.” 

“She’ll come out all right,” declared her husband, 
indulgently. “She has a tender conscience and 
mother will reach her somehow, through that. She 
was always working the ‘duty racket,’ as Don would 
say, to keep me in the path of rectitude,” with a 
laugh. “Jessica is growing; and a girl of fourteen 
is a sort of Chinese puzzle, anyway.” 

Late that afternoon Jessica was in the library, 
her mind and body in a turmoil of feverish expecta¬ 
tion, when she heard the humming of the motor 
which was bringing the guest from the station. 
She slipped quietly into the hall in time to see her 
father whirl a lady in a plain traveling dress from 
the car to her mother’s waiting arms, and she dashed 
a sudden tear from her eye as she heard the glad 


26 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


exclamations of mother and daughter in this long- 
deferred meeting. 

“I’ll just have to like her, for mamma’s sake,” 
she instantly confided to herself, 'even if she is as 
homely as Hans Andersen’s ugly duckling.” 

She was scarcely conscious what happened in the 
next few minutes. She saw Donald go forward and 
bestow an awkward kiss and a bearlike hug on the 
newcomer; saw her mother lift her little brother 
Harry up to be most warmly greeted; and then, in 
response to her father’s surprised inquiry, “Where is 
Jessica?” she caught her breath in one swift spasm 
of fear and hope, and went forward to look into the 
sweetest face, it seemed to her just then, that, next 
to her mother’s, she had ever seen, the face of her 
Kansas grandmother. 

“Why, she looks just like you, mamma!” was the 
girl’s first surprised exclamation, as she felt herself 
folded in a pair of warm arms; and, looking beneath 
the odd remark, Mrs. Cameron thought she de¬ 
tected something of the cause of her daughter’s 
uneasiness the past week. 

“Not so young by twenty years, nor yet so good- 
looking!” was the gay rejoinder from the new 
arrival. “But if I 'look like mamma,’ I hope that 
is an indication that I shall find an unoccupied 
corner for myself somewhere in her Jessica’s heart. 
How very like you, when you were her age, she is, 


THE ARRIVAL 


27 


Margaret/’ holding her at arm’s length for a tender 
look, then gently encircling her again. 

‘Three of a kind!” exclaimed Mr. Cameron, 
gayly, attempting to take them all in his arms at 
once; but his efforts failed, for grandma was a well- 
rounded matron, mamma was no featherweight, 
and Jessica promptly wriggled out of the group. So 
papa whirled grandma off to the living-room, di¬ 
vested her of her wraps, and installed her in a 
great, easy chair, amid her laughing protests. 

“I am not in the least tired,” she insisted. “I 
slept like a baby both nights I was on the road, and 
have eaten every meal as though I never expected 
to see another!” 

From her favorite perch in the deep bay-window, 
where Don was wont to say his sister did most of 
her daydreaming, Jessica shyly inspected this addi¬ 
tion to the Cameron family. Her heart swelled 
with pride and triumph as she sent timid glances 
grandmother-ward. The new arrival might be 
sixty years of age, or she might be fifty; she certainly 
did not look much older than Jessica’s own mother, 
for her eye was not dim to the point of wearing 
glasses, and her natural force did not appear to be 
in the least abated, as she sat in the big chair and 
conversed easily and interestingly concerning her 
journey. The removal of her traveling hat, a tur¬ 
ban of soft, gray silk, showed but few gray hairs 


28 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


among the brown and still abundant tresses that 
were parted in light waves, coiled in a dainty coiffure, 
and confined by an amber comb and a few hand¬ 
some gold pins. Her costume was quite such a one 
as Jessica saw frequently on the ladies of her moth¬ 
ers acquaintance, and she noticed that the silk shirt 
waist, with its plain but elegant gold buttons, was 
immaculate and matched the perfectly tailored 
skirt. 

Jessica’s spirits rose as she looked and listened. 
She breathed a long sigh of relief as she took in the 
ladylike figure, and heard the refined speech of the 
new arrival, who seemed scarcely past the prime of 
beautiful womanhood. 

“I’m going to tease Margie a whole lot before I 
give her a chance to inspect my Kansas grand¬ 
mother,” she thought, secretly. “As Don says, I’ll 
just ‘put one over on her’ for thinking she is so 
smart!” These thoughts, alas, showed that in 
Jessica’s girlish heart her chum had not yet been 
quite forgiven. 

“You may show grandmother to her room, Jes¬ 
sica, if she wishes to freshen up before dinner”— 
her mother’s voice recalled Jessica from her own 
reflections—“while I help Nora out a little.” Jes¬ 
sica proudly led the way to the well-appointed room, 
and shyly called her guest’s attention to the fact 
that it was adjoining her own, but that there was 


THE ARRIVAL 


29 


a lock on the door connecting the two rooms, to 
make use of whenever she wished. 

“We will make arrangements to hide the key, or 
lose it altogether, before we go to bed,” declared 
the newcomer; “and the good times we shall have in 
these two rooms this winter will go down in history— 
the history of your life and mine, eh, Jessica?” 

Jessica smiled a shy assent. “I’ll show you about 
the bathroom and the hot- and cold-water faucets, 
if you would like me to,” she said. “They are a 
kind of puzzle if you are not used to them.” 

“But I am, though,” responded Mrs. Keith. 
“We have hot and cold water over the whole house 
at the ranch, and gaslights even in the cellar.” 

“But I thought you lived in the country!” 

“So we do. But plumbers and gas-fitters and 
gas wells are not far away, so we manage to have 
most of the modern conveniences. Kansas is not 
the wilderness eastern people are sometimes led to 
believe; as you will find out, when I carry you off 
out there some of these days.” 

With her grandmother’s appearance at the dinner- 
table half an hour later Jessica’s last misgiving 
vanished, to return no more. Nothing could be more 
becoming than the gown of soft, gray silk, with its 
dainty frills of soft lace at neck and wrist, and 
nothing more charming than the newcomer’s grace¬ 
ful ease of manner and ready flow of small talk. 


30 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“She’s what you might call almost handsome, for 
one of her age,” decided Jessica, “but more than 
that, she’s got a face you just love to look at,” 
watching the play of expression on the refined fea¬ 
tures, “just as though she’s had a lot of experiences, 
and every one has made her just a little nicer.” 

Donald was early drawn into the conversation. 
Jessica, listening from her place at her father’s side, 
and answering only in shy monosyllables when 
addressed, wondered at this, as her brother was 
somewhat awkward and ill at ease with visitors. 
The family circle became almost hilarious, as he 
and Mrs. Keith exchanged reminiscences of his 
visit to the ranch three years previous. Their lively 
banter so pleased and astonished the youngest 
scion of the family, that he forgot to eat his dinner, 
but sat with spoon upraised, and mouth and eyes 
wide open in fixed attention. Jessica, noticing his 
absorption, exclaimed so loudly in her enjoyment 
of his attitude, that he promptly slipped under the 
table—his usual way of avoiding undue attention— 
and was with much difficulty persuaded to appear 
again above the board! 

In the flow of merry recollections the family 
learned, for the first time, of the posse of bold 
cowboy bandits which Donald had organized in the 
staid little village near his grandmother’s home, and 
of how he had trained them in the ways of the plains 


THE ARRIVAL 


31 


after the pattern set forth in Buffalo Bill’s Wild- 
West show. It also developed that his temporary 
guardian had smiled encouragingly on this imita¬ 
tion of “the wild and woolly West” until the un¬ 
fortunate day when the band was caught in the 
act of lassoing a prize calf belonging to a neighbor, 
and several of its members, including the leader, 
were treated to a ducking in a pond of very dirty 
water, by the said neighbor’s indignant hired man! 
The band, by Mrs. Keith’s orders, was immedi¬ 
ately disbanded, and Donald narrowly escaped being 
banished forthwith to the effete East. 

It also transpired that the would-be plainsmen, 
finding their cowboy tendencies frowned upon, had 
descended to honorable labor; and, as captains of 
industry, had hired out in a body to a neighboring 
farmer, to pick blackberries through the stress of 
the season. With the funds thus acquired they had 
purchased the village grocer’s entire left-over stock 
of Fourth-of-July fireworks, including firecrackers, 
torpedoes, pinwheels, and one immense Homan 
candle. In the celebration which followed such an 
acquisition of material they had succeeded in 
setting fire to a small barn belonging to the father 
of one of the boys. The structure had been saved 
from destruction only by the most strenuous efforts 
of the young patriots, who formed themselves into 
an efficient bucket brigade which did valiant service. 


32 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Donald himself was the narrator of this bit of 
history of that strenuous summer, and his grand¬ 
mother hastened to soften the horrified looks of the 
family circle by adding that he had purchased for 
all the boys immunity from the wrath of the barn’s 
owner by offering his entire allowance of pocket 
money—which was generous—for two months, to 
make good the loss, a concession which the owner 
generously declined. 

Donald was somewhat embarrassed by this in¬ 
formation, as he was later when grandmother in¬ 
formed him that the debating society, which he had 
organized soon after the fire, had not been discon¬ 
tinued, but was still flourishing, and had been named, 
in honor of its founder, The Cameron Debating 
Club. 

It was still midweek, but all thought of lessons 
was abandoned, and the Cameron family circle 
gave itself up to the pleasure of entertaining the 
new arrival. It was a cool evening in September, 
and a light wood fire was laid in the library, in the 
only wood grate which the gas-warmed house 
afforded; and in its genial glow they all gathered, 
as soon as dinner was concluded. 

“You don’t look a day older than you did ten 
years ago, mother,” declared Mr. Cameron, as he 
leaned on the mantel and approvingly surveyed the 
newcomer. “How have you succeeded, all these 


THE ARRIVAL 


33 


years, in staying the relentless hand of Father 
Time?” 

“I am afraid you have just come from a fresh 
smack at the blarney stone, son,” replied his foster- 
mother. “I have had no time, however, to attend 
to such an unimportant matter as growing old. I 
was with Horace, you know, for nearly five years 
after Kate’s death, and while there I took up paint¬ 
ing in oil and water color, which I had a long¬ 
standing desire to learn. There is so much inspira¬ 
tion in the scenery out there, and so many good 
teachers, that my opportunity was only bounded 
by my ability. Then, as Horace had a fine house¬ 
keeper and I seemed to have few duties save to keep 
him from absolute melancholy, I obtained the posi¬ 
tion of assistant at one of the public libraries, and 
reveled in a course of literature during the remainder 
of my stay. When he remarried, I decided that he 
and his wife would be best left to themselves, and 
I returned to my Kansas dug-out again. It seemed 
necessary, too, as the oil and gas leases which had 
just been made needed looking after.” 

“Horace wrote me that he was indebted to you 
for his second wife. I had never regarded you be¬ 
fore in the light of a matchmaker.” 

“ 'It is not good for man to be alone’ was never 
truer than in his case. The lady he married was an 
assistant in the city library, where I was employed. 


34 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


She was one of the sweetest women I have ever 
met. I took her up with me to dinner one night, 
and I saw at once that they were, or could be, 
affinities. I spent a month with them last summer, 
you remember. They have a lovely little daughter, 
and she is the living image of the little Lucy that 
was lost. I think I never knew a happier home. 
Come here, Harry,” added Mrs. Keith, coaxingly, 
to the bashful three-year-old, who was shyly re¬ 
garding her from the vantage ground of his father’s 
legs. “Pretty soon the big express wagon will come 
rumbling up here, and what do you suppose it will 
bring you from Kansas?” 

“Anuvver dranma?” queried Harry, doubtfully. 

“Heaven forbid!” laughed grandmother. “Papa 
and mamma would certainly consider that an em¬ 
barrassment of riches. Guess again.” 

“Is it somefing good to eat?” 

“It is, but it is also safe to say that you will never 
eat it,” returned grandma, and Jessica and Donald 
looked mystified. 

“It has very long ears (papa suddenly looked 
wise), four feet, no tail to speak of,—” 

“Oh, a donkey! a mountain burro, perhaps!” 
cried Jessica. 

Papa shook his head, laughingly. “The only 
tailless donkey I ever saw was one made of cotton 
cloth, which you children worked all one evening to 


THE ARRIVAL 


35 


affix a paper tail to,” he commented. “This seems 
to be a guessing game for the whole family. Mamma, 
it is your turn.” 

“I think I could guess, but I am not going to 
venture yet,” she said. “Harry, if I were to tell 
you that the something is a furry ball, probably 
either gray or white, that is not so large as your 
kitty, and hops about in the grass at night to find 
something to eat, could you guess what it is?” 

“Oh, a wabbit! a wabbit!” cried the little boy, 
his shyness of the stranger suddenly forgotten. 
“Dranma, show me to it, twick!” 

“Mamma is 'away off/ as the boys say,” declared 
grandma. “ When it is grown this something will 
be twice as large as your kitty,, unless you have a 
whale of a cat. There are two of them, and they are 
quite small yet, or I could scarcely have brought 
them.” 

The rattle of wheels on the driveway sounded at 
that very moment, and papa and Don went out, to 
return in a few minutes with a box the size of a 
cracker box, which had numerous holes bored in its 
sides, and was fitted with a sliding glass cover. 

There was scarcely room for the group of heads 
which bent eagerly over the box, but the same ex¬ 
clamation came in unison from all but Harry, who 
could only gaze in wonder—“Jack rabbits!” 

Looking up at the faces above them, half in fear, 


36 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


half in curiosity, were a pair of half-grown jack 
rabbits, their silky ears laid along their backs, their 
soft eyes blinking in the glare of the gas jet over¬ 
head. 

“Where did you get them, mother?” exclaimed 
Mr. Cameron. “Or, rather, how did you get them? 
I had not supposed a jack rabbit could be captured 
alive by any means.” 

“One of the men was doing some late plowing this 
summer,” answered Mrs. Keith, “and he ran over 
the mother with the plow, injuring her so badly 
that it was necessary to put her out of her misery. 
As he was sure she had young ones near, he hunted 
till he found her nest in a shallow hole in the ground, 
and, sure enough, there were two baby jacks in it. 
He brought them to me in his coat pocket, saying he 
would rather see the cat eat them than think they 
were starving to death. But puss adopted them at 
once, in place of four little ones of her own which 
she had recently lost. She proved an excellent 
mother, and cared for them until they were old 
enough to forage for themselves. It was a crazy ex¬ 
periment, perhaps, to bring them so far from their 
native heath, but they seem to be all right.” 

“Are they tame?” asked Donald, bending over 
the box again, his eyes and voice shining with all 
the enthusiasm of a boy with a live pet. 

Grandmother Keith slipped to the floor by the 


THE ARRIVAL 


37 


side of the box, and slid the glass cover ajar. “Do 
you want some cabbage, Jack?” she asked, and one 
of the gray beauties thrust his nose into her hand, 
rooting it impatiently when he found it contained 
nothing. 

“They are hungry. I fed them well before start¬ 
ing, and furnished the expressman an abundance 
of food for the trip; but a jack rabbit will scarcely 
touch wilted or stale food, and, too, they have 
missed their fresh milk, of which they are very 
fond.” 

“Let us take them down to the basement where 
there is lots of room for them to run, and give 
them something to eat,” proposed Don, so the en¬ 
tire family followed him and the rabbit box to the 
roomy basement. Mamma went on a foraging ex¬ 
pedition in behalf of the hungry strangers, and 
returned with some fresh bread, some cabbage 
leaves, and turnip tops, and a generous dish of milk. 

Mrs. Keith opened the box wide and the rabbits 
hopped lightly out, stretching their long legs, much 
to Harry’s delight. They eagerly appropriated 
the new milk, and, though they were somewhat shy 
of so many strangers, whom Mrs. Keith’s presence, 
however, seemed to offset, they ate a hearty supper 
before a delighted audience. 

“This one is Jack,” explained Mrs. Keith, indi¬ 
cating the larger of the bunnies, “and that one is 


38 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Jill. We had a wire enclosure for them, but, as they 
could dig under it and soon grew large enough to 
jump over it, they were often out. A neighbor’s 
greyhound has been chasing them lately. Jill sel¬ 
dom strays far enough from the house to give him a 
chance at her, but Jack has several times led him a 
merry chase around the house and barn. When he 
gets tired, Jack hops in at the storehouse window, 
which is always left open for them.” 

“Do they ever get sick?” inquired Jessica. 

“They 'dump’ occasionally, just as children are 
apt to do when they have had an overdose of 
dainties,” laughed grandmother. “But they have 
been very healthy, except that Jack nearly died 
after eating too much green corn when the first 
roasting ears were harvested this summer.” 

Donald had disappeared while the others were 
admiring and discussing the young jacks, and he 
now returned, carrying an armful of half-dried 
grass. Turning the box on its side, he stowed the 
grass within it, and before the family returned to 
the upper room the travel-worn bunnies were cosily 
nestled upon it. 

Harry was exceedingly reluctant to leave them. 
“I want to take the wabbits to bed wiv me,” he 
insisted. “I dot lots of woom in my bed.” 

“We will make them a nice home out in the big 
yard in the morning, Harry,” comforted the big 


THE ARRIVAL 


39 


brother, tossing the little boy on his back for a ride 
to the upper regions; “and you may watch them 
eat grass all day. I believe he would sleep down 
here in the basement with them, if mamma would 
let him,” he added aside to Jessica. 

“Is ’em Harry’s wabbits?” questioned the small 
boy, standing by his father’s side after they had 
returned to the living-room. “Dranma said she 
bringed ’em to me.” 

That had, indeed, been grandma’s intention, as 
she had fancied Don too old to care for a pet of that 
sort; but now she answered gently, “One is for you, 
Harry, and one shall be brother Don’s for helping 
take care of both. They will have to be well cared 
for, if they live so far from their prairie home.” 

“I have often heard that jack rabbits will not 
live long in confinement,” remarked Mrs. Cameron. 
“These two seem to be an exception.” 

“You could scarcely call it "confinement,’ if they 
had the run of a section of land, and were regularly 
exercised by a grey hound,” laughed her husband. 

“Then, too,” added Mrs. Keith, “they were care¬ 
fully cared for when they were little, and not 
handled at all. Old puss made them an excellent 
mother, and kept them properly licked and fed. 
When they were older I scattered green feed where 
they could get it at night, when rabbits do most of 
their eating, so they were soon self-supporting. 


40 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Their only difference with mamma puss seemed to 
be when she would bring them a tempting young 
mouse, and they would reject it, and insist on 
foraging for themselves in my lettuce bed.” 

“They will be a seven-days’ wonder here,” re¬ 
marked Jessica. “I never saw one myself, before, 
outside of a picture, and I doubt if there are many 
children in Cleveland who have.” 

“They will certainly be a novelty,” agreed 
mamma. “You will have to give a reception for 
them tomorrow after school, and invite your friends 
to come and inspect your Kansas acquisition.” 

“We must be sure, then, to have Margie come 
over,” commented Jessica, in a mischievous aside 
to Don. “She has been very much interested in 
‘Kansas freaks’ recently. I wonder if the jack 
rabbits would come in that class?” 

“If they don’t, I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed 
in seeing any,” returned her brother, with a swift, 
half-admiring glance at his grandmother, who had 
taken Harry on her lap and was charming him with 
her perfect rendition of an old nursery rhyme. 
That neither Don nor Jessica was disappointed in 
the arrivals from Kansas, was quite evident from 
their high spirits. 

It was late that night before Jessica could com¬ 
pose herself to sleep. Her last conscious remem¬ 
brance was of a white-robed figure that had slipped 


THE ARRIVAL 


41 


to her bedside through the open door of the adjoining 
room, of a face, serene and sweet, bending over 
her—a face that was like her mother’s, yet different— 
and of a tender good-night and a gentle kiss; and 
she had put her arms about the stranger’s neck and 
drawn the already dear face closer to whisper sleep¬ 
ily, “I am so glad you have come, my dear Kansas 
grandmother!” 


Chapter III 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

It was a happy Jessica that hopped blithely 
out of bed a good half hour earlier than usual next 
morning, to find the occupant of the adjoining room 
still sleeping. She roused at once, however, as her 
granddaughter’s smiling face appeared at the half¬ 
open door, and, with a glance at the clock on the 
mantel, was out of bed with a bound. 

“Good morning, Jessica. I must have been en¬ 
chanted, like the sleeping princess,” she exclaimed, 
gayly. “You will not be allowed to beat me up 
like this tomorrow morning, my girlie.” 

“I don’t always get up so early myself,” confessed 
Jessica. “Don says my worst habit is dreaming 
after I am awake. I am going to dress Harry for 
mamma this morning, and, as I knew breakfast 
would soon be ready—we have it early on papa’s 
account—I thought I would wake you first.” 

She ran down the hall to the room adjoining her 
mother’s, where her small brother was jumping up 
and down in an ecstacy of impatience to “be dwessed 
and go to feed the wabbits.” She washed the rosy 
42 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


43 


face, brushed the mop of yellow curls, and buttoned 
the small shoes on the restless feet. At last he was 
ready to be turned over to Don for a pickaback ride 
down stairs, and Jessica peeped into grandmother’s 
room to convoy her down to breakfast. She found 
her standing at the open window, in the daintiest 
of morning dresses, taking in long breaths of the 
invigorating air. Jessica joined her. The Cameron 
home overlooked beautiful Lake Erie, which, on 
this peaceful autumn morning, seemed to stretch 
away into infinite distances of rippling blue. 

“This is my first sight of a large lake,” said Mrs. 
Keith. “It reminds me of Puget Sound, though the 
surroundings are different. The shores of the 
sound are covered with evergreen trees, which grow 
to the water’s edge in many places.” 

“The lake is very quiet this morning,” replied 
Jessica. “I like it better when it has its pretty, 
white breakfast-caps on. Sometimes, though, when 
it rolls in big waves over the breakwater, it almost 
frightens me. Then, too, it does so much damage. 
To look at it this morning, you would not think it 
could be strong enough to batter large ships to 
pieces, but only last spring, in a terrible gale, there 
were several large freight steamers wrecked near 
here. They didn’t make the harbor before the 
storm struck them, and next morning the shore 
was covered with wreckage of them, as well as of 


44 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


small boats and fishing craft. Don and I walked 
down early, where the men of the life-saving station 
were taking some people from a foundered ship. 
We saw them bring in a little dead baby they had 
picked up on the beach” (here Jessica’s voice faltered 
for a moment, and she shuddered faintly), “but it 
was smiling, as though it had not hurt it to die that 
way.” 

Grandmother Keith’s hand closed softly over 
Jessica’s, as it lay near hers on the window sill. 
Truth to tell, this newfound granddaughter had 
been something of a puzzle to her the previous 
evening, skilled reader of human nature though she 
was. But Jessica’s shy confidence this morning 
seemed to indicate that she had, in some way, dis¬ 
pelled the hidden reserve, and she gladly met that 
confidence half-way. 

“That was the Father’s way, no doubt,” she 
answered gently. “Perhaps it was mercifully saved 
from much sorrow in this life, and possibly from a 
more painful death. 

‘When the thunder and storm of the tempest are past, 

In the harbor of Peace all shall anchor at last/ ” 

she quoted softly, as they turned to go down at the 
sound of Nora’s breakfast bell. 

Jessica’s feet seemed to have been changed to 
wings that morning as she tripped away to school. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


45 


She went early, though she would dearly have 
loved to help grandmother with her unpacking; but 
she did not want Marjorie to come for her, and 
perhaps get a sight of the precious grandmother, 
who, she had determined, should be kept from that 
critical young lady’s sight as long as possible. Jes¬ 
sica was not usually given to taking note of slight 
grievances, but she felt that Marjorie’s implied 
criticisms of a stranger so closely related to herself 
deserved a slight rebuke. 

Marjorie was waiting impatiently for her on the 
first corner. “What made you in such a hurry?” 
was her greeting. “It isn’t school time yet. I was 
coming up for you. Did she come?” 

“She? Who? Oh, my grandmother? Yes, of 
course,” answered Jessica, in most matter-of-fact 
tones. 

“Is she nice? I mean, do you like her? Why 
don’t you tell me about her?” she concluded, 
pettishly. 

“I haven’t had a chance yet,” replied Jessica, 
demurely; “of course she is 'nice,’ and of course I 
'like her,’ and what more do you want to know?” 
They walked a few steps in silence, and Jessica added 
pleasantly, “She brought Donald and Harry a pair 
of the sweetest jack rabbits! We are going to ask 
everybody down to see them after school.” 

“What did she bring to you?” asked Marjorie. 


46 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Just herself,” responded Jessica, promptly. 

Marjorie made some murmured excuse of “an¬ 
other date at four,” and there was a decided coolness 
between the chums for the remainder of the day; 
but released from school Marjorie, with a number 
of her mates, was duly on hand to inspect the boys’ 
new pets. Donald had already arranged a large 
wire cage for them in a grassy corner of the yard 
adjoining the garage, and they showed off to such 
good advantage, eating impartially from the numer¬ 
ous friendly hands, and seeming not to fear the 
merry, noisy voices, that, as Don afterward told 
his mother, “he was so proud of them he could have 
eaten them both.” 

After the rabbits bad been admired and dis¬ 
cussed, the visitors departed, all but Marjorie, 
who, with the freedom of close acquaintance walked 
with Jessica into the house. “Aren’t you going to 
make me acquainted with your grandmother?” she 
inquired, pointedly. 

“I’m so sorry,” returned Jessica, “but mamma 
and grandma have gone out for a ride; and, as Nora 
says they are going around for papa, they will not 
be back before six. Will you come into the library 
and wait?” 

Marjorie refused, somewhat ungraciously, the 
polite invitation. “She just don’t care to have me 
see her grandmother,” she said to herself, as she 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


47 


walked slowly homeward. “I’ll bet it is as I pre¬ 
dicted, and there’s something odd or freakish about 
her. I don’t mean to go near her again, though, till 
she asks me, if I never see her old grandmother!” 

Before ten the next morning, however, which was 
Saturday, the telephone summoned Marjorie, and 
Jessica’s voice came to her saying, “Say, Margie, 
can’t you come over at half-past three and practice 
that duet for our next recital? Miss Kent says we 
must have it ready in two weeks, and that only gives 
one Saturday more.” 

“Aren’t you going to the matinee?” interrogated 
Marjorie. It had become a custom with the girls 
of Marjorie’s and Jessica’s acquaintance to attend 
a picture show, matinee, or other form of entertain¬ 
ment, on Saturday afternoons. Mr. Cameron was 
much opposed to this, as was also his wife; but, as 
most of the other girls were allowed to attend 
regularly, it was difficult to say that Jessica could 
not go, at least occasionally, so, when the program 
was at all permissible, she was permitted to go with 
the others. 

“Not today,” came the prompt response. “The 
girls are going to the Novelty, aren’t they?” 

Marjorie assented. “The play is The Clans¬ 
man,’ and they say it is perfectly thrilling!” 

“Well, grandma says that no young girl like me 
should read the book, let alone go to see it played,” 


48 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


declared Jessica, with decision. “So I am not 
going.” 

“What did I tell you?” returned her chum, dis¬ 
gustedly. “What has your grandmother got to do 
with your going?” 

“Not a thing in the world!” retorted Jessica. 
“But she and mamma surely know what is best for 
me, better than I do. Mamma says that if your 
mother knew what it was like, you would not get 
to go, either.” 

Marjorie was, by this time, very curious indeed 
concerning this newcomer at the Cameron’s, to 
whose views Jessica seemed to yield such willing 
assent. “Well,” she agreed, unwillingly, “mamma 
has already said that I cannot go unless you do, 
so I suppose I might as well come over and practice.” 

Jessica was alone when she arrived, and ushered 
her at once into the music room. 

“Where is your grandmother?” asked Marjorie, 
glancing around expectantly. As Jessica was at 
that moment turning over some sheets of music 
in the cabinet, she did not answer at once, and 
Donald, coming in at that moment, replied for her 
that his mother had gone to a special meeting of the 
Ladies’ Municipal League, and Mrs. Keith had 
accompanied her. 

“Wasn’t that the last feather of disappointment 
on the poor camel’s back?” laughed Don, as the 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


49 


visitor, after a very indifferent half hour at the 
piano with Jessica, made an excuse of finishing a 
book she was reading, and moodily departed for 
home. “She played that rondo as if it were the 
Dead March from Saul! I believe, Jessica, that if 
she doesn’t make grandmother’s acquaintance pretty 
soon, she will cut ours.” 

Jessica laughed mischievously. “Perhaps, as 
papa says to me sometimes, she will ‘reserve her 
judgment’ next time, until she knows some of the 
facts,” she remarked. 

On Sabbath morning, however, Marjorie was 
granted her heart’s desire. The day was a perfect 
one, and the churchgoers were out in goodly num¬ 
bers. The Sheldon pew was near that of the Cam¬ 
erons, and Marjorie had not been settled long at her 
mother’s side when Mr. Cameron ushered into it a 
middle-aged lady in a plain silk gown, “with hat and 
gloves to match,” as Marjorie inwardly commented, 
and she was aware at once that this was the Kan¬ 
sas grandmother. Jessica followed her mother and 
Donald, sending, as was her wont, a swift glance of 
greeting toward the Sheldon pew, with an added 
smile this morning, which Marjorie interpreted as 
one of distinct triumph. 

She turned her attention, covertly, to the stranger. 
That she was a lady, even according to Miss Mar¬ 
jorie’s somewhat exacting standard, was quite 


50 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


apparent. That she was scarcely past the prime of 
life was also evident; there were few wrinkles on the 
pleasant, tranquil face, and this Kansas product 
apparently did not disdain to make use of such 
small aids to the modern woman’s toilette as have 
their part in producing a desirable effect and a 
favorable impression. 

“I don’t wonder Jessica is disgusted with me,” 
she confessed to herself, as she stole another look 
at the newcomer. “Her face reminds me of that 
expression Claude is always getting off at me when 
I fly into a tantrum, ‘a lady is serene!’ Just to look 
at her, I don’t imagine that she was ever in a temper 
in her life.” 

She settled down in her corner of the pew, resolved 
to make amends to her friend, at the first oppor¬ 
tunity, for her ungracious comments. 

Marjorie’s parents had been residents of Cleveland 
scarcely more than a year; but of all her acquaint¬ 
ances Jessica had seemed the most desirable, and she 
was, in the main, very loyal to the new friendship. 

“Fine-looking woman, Mrs. Cameron’s mother,” 
remarked Marjorie’s father at the dinner table that 
day. “Young-looking, too, to have a grandson of 
Don’s age.” 

“She is quite stylish for a westerner, too,” re¬ 
joined Mrs. Sheldon. “Her toilette seemed quite up 
to date, and very becoming.” 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


51 


“She probably bought her style from some eastern 
mail-order house,” suggested Marjorie’s brother 
Claude. “For that matter, you can get style any¬ 
where in the United States now, where you can buy 
cloth and a paper pattern.” 

“It takes more than cloth and a paper pattern to 
enable a woman to present a stylish appearance,” 
objected Mrs. Sheldon. “Good taste is the most 
necessary requirement, and Mrs. Keith seems, by 
her dress, to possess it.” 

“Mr. Cameron was telling me about her as we 
came home yesterday,” pursued Mr. Sheldon. “He 
said he owes all his success in life to her. It 
seems his mother died while he was quite small; 
and his father died suddenly, leaving a will which 
appointed Mr. and Mrs. Keith his guardians. Mr. 
Keith died soon after, but Mrs. Keith assumed the 
responsibility of bringing him up and directing his 
education, even leaving her well-appointed home to 
be with him and her own daughter while they at¬ 
tended the State University.” 

“It was quite natural that he and Mrs. Keith’s 
daughter should find themselves congenial,” re¬ 
marked Mrs. Sheldon. “Close acquaintance seemed 
to lead to high appreciation, in their case.” 

“How very romantic!” sighed Marjorie. “I 
suppose Mrs. Keith couldn’t help but be mighty 
glad she had taken so much pains with his bring- 


52 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


ing up, after be had fallen in love with her only 
daughter and married her.” 

“I read not long ago,” said Claude, “of a lady who 
had five sons, and three of them were already mar¬ 
ried to girls she had taken into her own home and 
trained to be good housekeepers; and that she is 
now looking for suitable material from which to 
select wives for the other two.” 

“I doubt if anyone could work a scheme like that 
on Richard Cameron,” laughed Mr. Sheldon. “He 
would be apt to have views of his own in the matter 
of choosing a wife. But Mrs. Cameron is a fine 
woman, and the entire family are the sort to be 
cultivated. I suppose you will call, Emily?” turning 
to his wife. 

“Certainly,” she answered. “Mrs. Cameron has 
already invited me to do so.” 

Marjorie lost no time in putting in force her good 
resolution to make amends to her chum for her 
thoughtless remarks of the previous week, and, as 
they walked to school together next morning through 
the bright autumn sunshine, she broke out, “Say, 
Jess, I want you to forgive me, right and all, for 
being so horrid mean to you about your grandmother. 
I didn’t really say anything about her, you know, or 
at least I didn’t intend to, but I just as good as, 
and I made you feel bad.” 

“That is no joke,” replied Jessica, soberly. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


53 


“But, as long as your slam on Kansas people in 
general doesn’t seem to me to hit her in particular 
very hard, I guess we’d better not think any more 
about it.” 

“She’s a lovely looker,” added Marjorie, im¬ 
pulsively, “and I’m sure she’d be awfully sweet to 
know. You are good to forget what I said to tease 
you, and I have made up my mind that I will never 
make remarks—unkind ones, I mean—about any¬ 
one again.” 

“We’ll make a double bargain on that,” declared 
Jessica; and the two girls stopped right there on the 
avenue, and gravely kissed each other. Marjorie 
seldom did anything by halves, and for that matter, 
neither did her chum. 

“How long since you and your ‘amigo’ contracted 
the habit of osculating on the street?” gravely in¬ 
quired Claude, as the Sheldons sat down to luncheon 
that day. “Did you forget, or neglect, your usual 
tender salutation in the first wild moment of meeting 
this morning?” 

“Don’t tease your sister, Claude,” gently chided 
his mother. “Her friendship for Jessica Cameron is 
something I highly approve.” 

But Marjorie did not appear ruffled. “Jessica 
and I were only sealing a compact we had just made,” 
she explained, lightly. 

“From the public manner in which it was ratified 


54 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


you should have no difficulty in obtaining witnesses, 
in case of a violation of the treaty by either party,” 
pursued Claude. “If you were to see Donald and 
me stopping for such a performance as that on the 
public highway, what would you infer?” 

“That you were both showing very poor taste, 
with so much more desirable kissing material all 
around you on the avenue. Helen King told Hazel 
Lee a day or two ago that you had a ‘regular Cupid’s 
bow’ for a mouth,” returned Marjorie, demurely. 
Thereupon her father laughed: “Score one for your 
sister, Claude.” 

The next day Jessica invited her chum to accom¬ 
pany her home after school, “specially to meet 
gramsie,” and Marjorie did not refuse. 

“She’ll be sure to be at home this time,” re¬ 
marked Jessica, as they sought the living-room after 
a brief visit to the jack rabbits, “for I told her this 
morning that if she and mamma went gadding off 
down town this afternoon we would follow them up I” 

Marjorie stared. “You didn’t really? I shouldn’t 
think you’d dare talk to your grandmother like 
that,” she observed. 

“Oh, we’re pretty well acquainted by this time,” 
answered Jessica, opening the sitting-room door as 
she spoke. 

Mrs. Keith was evidently very much at home, for 
she was sitting on the floor engaged in the con- 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


55 


struction of a miniature Tower of Babel, with 
Harry’s almost too eager assistance. She scrambled 
to her feet as Jessica admitted her friend, and 
came forward at once. 

“I am sure I do not need an introduction to this 
little lady,” she said, as Jessica named her friend. 
“Marjorie is a household word here, I notice, so I 
am sure there can be but one.” 

She bent and kissed the soft cheek as she spoke. 
Marjorie was slightly embarrassed at first, but under 
the spell of Mrs. Keith’s kindly tact she was soon 
at her ease. 

“Let’s go up to my room and see the writing-desk 
Don finished at Manual last week,” Jessica pro¬ 
posed, after the three had 'visited” a few minutes. 
“He has given it to me. May I show Margie the 
pictures in your room too, grandmother?” she asked. 

“Certainly, if you wish,” replied Mrs. Keith, and 
the two girls went up to Jessica’s room, where they 
had had many pleasant hours together, and made a 
brief inspection of the new writing-desk. 

“It doesn’t look very large by the side of grand¬ 
mother’s,” said Jessica, pushing open the door of the 
adjoining room as she spoke. “This is grandmother s 
room, and I am going to work and study here all 
winter.” There was a little thrill of pride in her 
voice. 

“Work at what?” 


56 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Well, she is going to give me lessons in water 
color, for one thing. I know we have that at school, 
but I don’t do it well. Grandmother has had lessons 
from a fine teacher out on the coast, and has offered 
to show me, so I can get better grades; and, if I 
do well, to give me lessons in oil too. That is one 
of her pictures,” she added, pointing to a small 
canvas of Mount Rainier that occupied the wall 
above the large writing-desk, “and this is another,” 
indicating a spirited copy of Rosa Bonheur’s “Deer 
in the Snow.” 

“You don’t mean to say she did them herself?” 
asked Marjorie, incredulously. 

“Surest thing! That mountain one she just looked 
at from the top story of the Tacoma courthouse, and 
sketched it and the country around it, and then 
painted it. That’s the way I want to learn to 
paint—right from nature.” 

“When are you going to begin?” asked Marjorie, 
a little feeling of jealousy creeping into her heart 
as she thought of this new element that had come 
into the life of her chum, she began to fear to her 
own partial exclusion. “Your lessons are so hard 
for you now that you can hardly get them, so I 
wouldn’t think you’d have much time for anything 
else this winter.” 

“That’s what mamma said,” answered Jessica, 
frankly, though she flushed under her schoolmate’s 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


57 


implied criticism; “but I am to begin the first of 
October if I make good grades in my September 
work. I’ll have to dig some, though, in the next 
two weeks, for I have two P’s in history already, 
and it will take some scratching to cover them up!” 

“You talk as though you were an old hen out in 
the dirt!” laughed Marjorie, her spirits unconsciously 
rising as she heard the terms of the contemplated 
art lessons. For Jessica did not love study, as her 
chum well knew; and the “put-off habit,” as Donald 
called her neglect of her school work, had her in a 
strong grasp. But Marjorie had yet to learn the 
force of the new influence that was to come into 
her friend’s life, and through that friend into her 
own. 

Looking back, in the days that followed, to the 
coming of her “Kansas grandmother,” as she loved 
to call her, it seemed to Jessica Cameron that it 
had been a turning-point in her whole existence. 
She was of a somewhat dreamy and retiring dis¬ 
position, with quite serious views of life, which her 
parents scarcely credited her with possessing, but 
which her grandmother’s shrewd vision had cor¬ 
rectly interpreted early in her stay. On her part 
Jessica learned that her grandmother was a person 
of varied industries: that she was an excellent 
musician, often correcting Jessica’s mistakes at the 
piano from the adjoining room; that she had been a 


58 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


school-teacher, also a stenographer, and that she 
could handle the typewriter, which was part of the 
equipment of the big desk, with the speed and skill 
of an expert. Jessica also discovered that the 
knowledge her grandmother had been acquiring 
through life was not being laid aside in her mature 
years. Comparing her with the elderly ladies of 
her mother’s acquaintance, Jessica soon realized 
the difference between them; for, while the latter 
seemed to be the subjects of a mere passive existence, 
as though life for them would soon be over, grand¬ 
mother Keith gave every evidence of being very 
much alive in the present, and seemed to be looking 
forward to the accomplishment of much in the 
future. She had spoken shyly of this one night, 
as the two were curled up for a bedtime chat soon 
after her grandmother’s arrival. 

“You like to work, don’t you, gramsie?” she had 
asked, as Mrs. Keith’s fingers slipped in and out of 
the shining meshes of a little silk breakfast cap she 
was making for Jessica’s mother. 

“That is my one talent, Jessica dear,” Mrs. 
Keith answered, gayly. “A noted writer once said 
‘genius is only another name for unlimited applica¬ 
tion.’ If this is true, I narrowly escaped being one.” 

“I think you are one,” replied Jessica. “Papa 
says you can do more things, and do them all well, 
than any other woman he knows. I wish I could 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


59 


do all the things you know how to do,” she con¬ 
cluded, wistfully. 

“I am afraid papa is a sad flatterer!” laughed her 
listener. “You forget how many years I have lived, 
Jessica dear. By the time you are as old as I am 
now I hope you will have been able to have done 
much more than I for yourself and your fellows, and 
have done it much better. Opportunities are much 
greater now than when I learned ‘to do all the things 
I can do/ ” she finished, laughingly. 

“How do you mean, gramsie?” 

“Well, for instance, I was obliged to ride sixteen 
miles in a lumber-wagon, or on horseback, for my 
first music lessons, taking an entire day once a week; 
and then they were not from what you would con¬ 
sider a professional teacher today.” 

Jessica gave a little shiver of dismay. “I am afraid 
I would not have taken many. I pout sometimes, 
because I have four blocks to walk on a paved 
street; and can take a car if it is stormy.” 

“The difficulties in the way of getting them 
only made them more valuable to me,” returned 
grandmother. “And so, today, when I see the 
wonderful advantages which are spread out for our 
young people, I could almost wish that I might 
begin all over again, at about your age, and see how 
much I could improve on my present capacity for 
accomplishment.” 


60 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“But don’t you ever feel like stopping work, grand¬ 
mother, now that you don’t need to work any more? 
Papa says that you are quite a rich woman.” 

Mrs. Keith’s voice took on a more serious tone 
as she answered, “Tell me why I should store up 
my small abilities, now that I am in a position to 
make the most possible use of them, Jessica. Would 
that not be rather silly? I am as well and strong as 
I ever was. Why should I not keep busy? The more 
so, as there are pleasant opportunities on every hand 
to use my energies, and dispense, with my own 
hands, a part of my income, which I feel is only 
mine in trust.” 

“How do you mean, gramsie?” asked Jessica, 
again. “Didn’t you and grandpa earn all the 
money you have now, and haven’t you a right to 
spend it for anything you want?” 

“Yes and no, dear. The rise in the price of land 
has increased the value of our ranch many times 
since we bought it, and of course we were all un¬ 
aware of the value lying beneath the surface in 
coal and oil and gas. If I have been blest above 
others in these added riches, do you not think it 
is my duty, and should be my pleasure, to use a 
part of it for the good of others? That is one of the 
best of reasons why I love to keep busy. There are 
so many delightful ways popping up in which one 
can ‘lend a hand.’ ” 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


61 


“I do not need to ask you what you are planning 
to do this winter,” the young girl ventured, after 
a thoughtful pause. “Papa says it is ‘grandmother 
here and grandmother there/ in this household 
already, until he wonders mamma does not enter a 
protest. Mamma laughed and said that probably 
she made as many demands on your time as any¬ 
body else, and that you seemed to enjoy being 
used.” 

“She knows me of old. And now, little girlie, 
that we have talked about my work, suppose we 
finish the discussion of yours, which we began last 
night, and see if we cannot plan to use me, as 
mamma does, to add to your own opportunities/’ 

Jessica winced. “Mamma almost thinks I am 
lazy, sometimes, I am sure/’ she responded. “But 
it seems so hard for me to get at the things I do not 
like to do. Did you ever have to do things you did 
not like to do, gramsie?” 

“Such things as pull weeds all day in the corn¬ 
fields, or help pick up acres of potatoes, or milk 
five cows night and morning, or mend husking mit¬ 
tens until ten o’clock at night, or teach school all 
day and do the work for a family of three after I 
had walked a mile home?” 

“Grandmother!” exclaimed Jessica. “You do not 
mean to say that you ever had to do any of those 
dread—things?” 


62 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“You were going to say 'dreadful/ ” accused her 
companion, smiling. “Many and many a time, 
Jessica, and other things just as disagreeable; but 
I never remember viewing them in the light of a 
hardship, but only as 'the duty lying nearest/ 
Don’t you know our work is a pleasure or a bugbear, 
precisely as we look at it?” 

Jessica studied the tranquil face bent over the 
dainty work, glanced at the well-kept hands moving 
so gracefully in and out of the soft silks, and tried 
to imagine their owner engaged in some of the occu¬ 
pations she had just mentioned. Was it such 
experiences as these that had given the look of 
steadfast patience to grandmother’s kind eyes, and 
that had left on her face the look of serene content 
which it always wore? 

“In the early days of Kansas,” continued Mrs. 
Keith, “a great many people burned cobs for fuel; 
and your grandfather used to run a corn-sheller 
in the winter time, moving it from farm to farm. 
This made it necessary for him to be away from 
home from very early in the morning till late at 
night, and sometimes he did not get home for 
several days. When he was away I attended to the 
stock at night, and in the summer I helped him 
stack hay, made the garden, and raised the chickens, 
and made myself generally useful.” 

Jessica did her best not to appear shocked at these 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


63 


revelations. What would Marjorie think to hear 
grandmother thus frankly telling of doing the work 
of a common farmhand? “Did grandpa like to have 
you do those things?’’ she queried, at last, with 
some hesitation. 

The first shadow Jessica had yet seen on the 
sweet face opposite clouded it for one moment, 
and was gone. 

“We were always happiest when together, dear, 
no matter what our work happened to be. I helped 
him husk forty acres of corn one fall, as much for 
the pleasure it gave me to be out with him in the 
field, as from the desire to get the corn out early. 
If I could have but one wish gratified for you, 
Jessica, it would be that you would marry, as I 
did, and as your mother has done, a good man whose 
life would be bound up in yours. Labor for those we 
love is a pleasure, never a burden. And now, to 
come back to your plans for the next five months— 
for the first of March may see me in Kansas again— 
I have prevailed on mamma to let you commence 
your drawing and painting lessons at once, believing 
they will be an added inducement for you to excel 
in your other studies, which I am sure you feel at 
your age are very important.” 

Jessica rose from her low chair, and threw her 
arms around her grandmother’s neck. “You dear 
gramsie!” she cried. “How did you know what 


64 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


I wanted more than anything else in the world! 
Margie guyed me yesterday when I told her I 
had to get some good grades before I commenced, 
and she looked as if, as if—” 

“As if she thought you would never get there!” 
concluded Mrs. Keith, laughingly. “Well, we will 
surprise Marjorie; and that the surprise may be 
easier of accomplishment, I am going to invite you 
to spend the hour from seven to eight with me at 
my desk, five nights in the week.” 

Jessica made a slight grimace. “Don won’t like 
that,” she averred. “He used to go out to study 
with the other boys sometimes—w ith Claude Sheldon 
mostly—but since you came he hasn’t been away a 
single night; and he just loves to have you in the 
library where he works.” 

“I have made provision for Don,” was the smiling 
reply. “He is not to be deprived of my charming 
society, but may come, too, whenever he wishes. 
Also, he and I are to have a half-hour all by our¬ 
selves in the morning, while Miss Jessica is weaving 
her morning fancies.” 

“I have ‘cut that out,’ ” replied Jessica, laughing. 
“But I do not believe papa will consent to our putting 
any more strings on you.” 

“This is a string I have affixed to myself,” re¬ 
torted grandmother, “and I expect to be the chief 
puller thereof. Don is so like his father, Jessica, 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


65 


that it is like living the old days over again to be 
with him and his lessons. Does my program suit 
you?” 

A soft hug was sufficient reply. “I will do my 
best, gramsie, my very best,” she promised. 

“Thank you, dear. I knew you would make that 
promise, and I am sure you will keep it. And now 
I want to give you two mottoes for your daily guides, 
both of which will help you in your winter’s work: 
‘Learn all you can , whenever you can , wherever you 
can, of whatever you can,’ and the other, ‘Do the duty 
lying nearest.’ ” 


Chapter IV 


THE ‘‘NANNY-MAN” 

It was the following Saturday afternoon, and 
Jessica had just returned to the library from the 
nursery, where she had been putting Harry away for 
the daytime nap which he still indulged in. 

“What is that queer noise?” inquired Mrs. Keith, 
after a few moments. “It sounds like an auctioneer 
trying to draw a crowd together.” 

“It is only Harry, upstairs, imitating the street 
venders,” explained Jessica. “The men who sell 
fruits and vegetables from house to house are not 
allowed on the residence streets before noon, on 
account of disturbing the large number of workmen 
who work all night in the furnaces and smelters, 
and sleep in the forenoon. Listen!” 

She set the hall door ajar, and the child's voice 
drifted down from the upper room, repeating sleep¬ 
ily, “Appuls, nunnions, tatoes, fwesh fish, nan¬ 
nies, nan-nies—” until at last it trailed off into 
silence. 

“Their coming on the street just at the time of 
his regular nap was what got him into the habit,” 
66 


THE “NANNY-MAN’ 


67 


she continued, “and now he always puts himself to 
sleep that way, when he takes a daytime nap. I 
want you to be sure to hear him when he wakes up. 
It is too funny for anything. Don calls it ‘before 
and after taking/ ” 

An hour later, Mrs. Keith was absorbed in writing 
a letter to her brother, and Jessica was putting the 
finishing touches to a very satisfactory sketch of the 
big chestnut tree in the yard, which she had been 
doing under grandmother’s supervision, when there 
was a sudden clamor above stairs which sounded as 
though all the produce venders in the city had in¬ 
vaded the house in a body. “Appuls, nunnions, 
tatoes, fwesh fish, nannies, nannies, nannies.” 
The boyish voice rang noisily down the stairs, and 
a moment later a decided thud in the room above 
indicated that the sleeper and his couch had sud¬ 
denly parted company. Mrs. Keith was so startled 
that she dropped the sketching portfolio she was 
holding, and Jessica, laughing merrily, hastened to 
open the door for the small mimic. 

“Here are the pennies mamma left to get your 
bananas with, Harry,” she said, and a moment 
later Master Harry was perched on the front gate, 
eagerly awaiting the coming of the dark-browed 
Italian who dispensed his favorite fruit. 

“I feel sorry for poor Mr. Giovanni,” remarked 
Jessica, as the swarthy foreigner paused at the gate 


68 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


and selected the choicest of his fruit for the little 
boy, who was evidently a regular and favorite 
customer. “He lives only a couple of blocks below 
us, in a three-room shack that is a disgrace to the 
neighborhood; but as long as he manages to pay his 
rent the owner, who is a rich Italian, will not com¬ 
pel him to move.” 

“Why should he?” queried her companion. “He 
must live somewhere. Has he a family?” 

“That’s the worst of it,” answered Jessica, in a 
tone of deep disgust. “His wife died a year or so 
ago, and she left five children, with only the oldest 
girl, who is about my age, to take care of the rest. 
The neighbors all say she cannot cook, and the 
children are always ragged, and never clean.” 

“Probably she has never been taught to sew or 
cook. You were saying only last night, that you 
wished you could do something to help some needy 
person. From what you have just told me you 
would not need to go more than two blocks to find 
a task ready set to your hand.” 

Jessica stared, then shook her head. “Mamma 
would never let me go inside the door, for fear of 
infection, I am certain,” she said, decidedly. “You 
do not know, you cannot imagine, grandma, how 
hopelessly dirty they are. After his wife died, some 
members of the Associated Charities went there 
and offered to have his house cleaned up for him, 


THE “NANNY-MAN' 


69 


and, because he was so hard up, take his youngest 
boy, who was only about two years old, to the 
Children’s Home; but Pietro would not listen to 
them at all.” 

“It does not seem to me that that was a good 
entering wedge, as we say,” said Mrs. Keith. “Many 
of these foreigners are very sensitive. Then, too, 
don’t you suppose he loves his children as much 
as your papa does you? What if your father were 
to lose his property in some way, get ‘hard up/ 
as you say, and some charitably inclined persons 
were to offer to take Harry and bring him up in an 
orphan asylum?” 

Jessica flushed slightly, then looked sober. “But 
how can anyone do things for them, gramsie, if they 
are too proud to allow it?” she questioned. 

“It should be offered in the form of kindly help, 
not charity,” returned grandmother, gravely. “Do 
the children go to school?” 

“The oldest girl and boy don’t. The boy works 
in a tobacco shop, and the girl keeps house. The 
two younger ones do, but the smallest one is not old 
enough.” 

“Let us walk down past their house this evening,” 
proposed Mrs. Keith, after a few moments reflec¬ 
tion. “I would like to see what poor people in 
Cleveland look like.” 

Jessica assented doubtfully; and Mrs. Keith went 


70 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


to her room to dress for a party, to which she had 
been invited, at the Sheldon’s. As both mother 
and grandma were to be away, Don had been per¬ 
mitted to use the car and take Jessica and Harry 
out to Lakewood for chestnuts. 

Acting on Mrs. Keith’s suggestion, and evading 
questions as to their destination, Jessica and her 
grandmother set out, after the late dinner, and 
strolled slowly past the Italian’s house. They saw 
the fruit vender himself, working busily in a tiny 
garden at one side of the house, while near him the 
smallest child played with a dilapidated toy horse 
and wagon. 

“What perfect lettuce for this time of year!” 
exclaimed the lady, in a tone intended to reach the 
gardener’s ears. “I wonder if we might not buy a 
few leaves for the rabbits’ breakfast.” 

The gardener came quickly forward. “Lettuce 
all nice, fresh,” he said. “How much-a you like?” 

“You are the same man that sold Harry Cameron 
such fine bananas this afternoon, I think,” said 
Mrs. Keith, as she paused at the gate. “You have 
a fine garden for this time of year, and for a man who 
works away from home, too.” 

The Italian looked pleased, and opening the rick¬ 
ety gate invited the two to come inside, explaining 
in broken English that he did not have enough of a 
surplus in his garden to make it pay to take it to 


THE “ NANNY-MAN ’ 


71 


market; but that the children sold small quantities 
occasionally in the immediate neighborhood. The 
lettuce, he added, was of a late planting, and as the 
weather had been cool and moist it had come on 
uncommonly well. 

Mrs. Keith took a dime from her purse, and the 
man, directing one of the children to bring a paper 
sack, put up a generous quantity of the crisp, curly 
leaves. Jessica listened thoughtfully as her grand¬ 
mother talked easily with him of the best way to 
plant and care for a fall garden, the most profitable 
vegetables to cultivate, and methods of saving them 
until well into the winter. She was evidently well- 
informed on the subject, and the gardener paid 
most intelligent attention. 

“It is such a saving to have your own vegetables 
through the whole season,” she commented, pleas¬ 
antly. “It all helps in these days of high prices.” 

The Italian assented. “My wife, she dead now 
over a year,” he said, sadly. “My girl, she not know 
much-a how cook,” with a glance toward the nearest 
window where a young girl with a dark face, framed 
in a mass of untidy black hair, was looking out indif¬ 
ferently at the group in the little garden. “Me raise 
plenta spinach, garlic, tomat’, onion—all help.” 

“Your daughter looks quite young. It must be 
hard for her to do the work for so many. Does she 
do their sewing, too?” 


72 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“She does-a much,” giving the face in the window 
something like a look of approval. “Sometimes 
buy-a ready-made. Too cheap,” in a tone of dis¬ 
gust. “Soon come all to pieces!” 

Mrs. Keith’s experienced eyes took in the family 
group, and a great wave of pity swept over her 
motherly soul. On a rude box in the rear of the 
lean-to which seemed to serve as a kitchen, the 
older boy was drawing, with a piece of charcoal, 
crude pictures of impossible trees and houses, for 
the amusement of the others. The youngest, having 
now cut his hand slightly on an old tin can with 
which he had been loading dirt into his wagon, set 
up a howl of dismay, whereupon the older sister 
came hurriedly out, and carried him within. The 
smaller children’s clothes were of the coarsest, 
cheapest sort, and were unskilfully made, though 
with an evident attempt to follow the prevailing 
mode. The older girl’s dress, of the ready-made 
type, was of the poorest quality and of tawdry 
appearance. The girl herself was undersized for her 
age, which her father informed his visitors was “past 
fourteen.” 

“Just about my age,” remarked Jessica, and 
again fell thoughtfully silent. 

“I am spending the winter with my daughter, 
Mrs. Cameron,” Mrs. Keith explained, as she turned 
to go; “and as I am not very busy I think I would 


THE “ NANNY-MAN ’ 


73 


like to get acquainted with your young housekeeper,” 
with a smile toward the window where the girl was 
again seated. “I would be glad to help her with the 
younger children’s clothes, and perhaps she would 
like me to come down sometimes to show her how 
to cook some simple, cheap dishes which you would 
all like. It would help to keep me in practice.” 

She did not wait for Mr. Giovanni to accept or 
reject this proposal, but added, “We shall want 
some more lettuce, perhaps tomorrow. When Mrs. 
Cameron sees how very nice this is, I think she will 
not be willing that the bunnies shall have it all.” 

She dropped some pennies in the toy cart as she 
departed, saying lightly to the small owner, “Now 
you can buy some hay for your horsie”; and was 
rewarded by seeing a dazzling smile chase the tears 
from the grimy face, while the father looked on 
decidedly pleased. 

“Grandmother,” said Jessica, as they walked 
slowly home through the gathering dusk, “I have 
a couple of good gingham house dresses that I have 
outgrown, but which I think are plenty large enough 
for Beatrice, that is, if she will take them,” she 
added, doubtfully. 

“To be sure she will take them,” returned Mrs. 
Keith. “I will see to that. Do you know, Jessica, 
I cannot understand such poverty as theirs, in the 
midst of what you might call the over-abundance 


74 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


which is all around them. It seems to me it is al¬ 
most a reflection on the humanity of their wealthy 
neighbors.” 

“Don’t you have any poor people like them out 
in Kansas?” queried Jessica. 

“Not poor like this Italian family, not in our 
community,” said Mrs. Keith, decidedly. “The 
citizens would be ashamed to have such poverty in 
their midst, and would get to work speedily to 
remedy such a state of affairs.” 

“How?” 

“Well, the Civic Employment Bureau would pro¬ 
vide the man with work which would bring him 
better wages than he could make peddling bananas. 
Then the Woman’s Auxiliary of the same club would 
provide comfortable clothing for those smaller chil¬ 
dren until the father could do so. The Civic Social 
Club would see to it that that young girl attended 
the lessons on housekeeping which are kept up by 
a number of generous-minded men and women, 
assisted by a small fund from the town. These 
lessons are taught by expert teachers, and are at¬ 
tended by all classes who wish to benefit by the 
helpful instruction offered.” 

“But suppose he would not be helped,” insisted 
Jessica, again. “Pietro was so very angry when the 
ladies went to him and offered to help him with 
money and clothes, and take one or two children 


THE “NANNY-MAN* 


75 


off his hands, that he threatened to shoot them; he 
really did. We girls have a Helping Hand Mission 
in our Sunday school,” she added. “We do lots of 
charity.” 

“We will eliminate the word ‘charity’ from our 
plans for Mr. Giovanni,” said Mrs. Keith, quietly, 
“and then, my Jessica, we shall see how quickly we 
shall get in touch with him and the little Giovannis. 
What does your mission society do?” 

“Oh, we gather up flowers in summer, among our 
friends, or raise them ourselves, and take them to the 
city hospitals on visiting days; and we send maga¬ 
zines to the Old Ladies’ Home, and carry toys and 
storybooks to the Children’s Home. We met once 
to sew for the Foundlings’ Home—we thought if 
we could make doll dresses we ought to be able to 
make them enough larger to do for babies—but we 
had no one to plan or cut out for us, so we gave it 
up.” 

“Couldn’t you get your mothers interested enough 
to give you a boost?” 

“I asked mine,” replied Jessica, frankly, “but 
she said she couldn’t give any more time to charitable 
organizations than she was giving, without neg¬ 
lecting her own family; and Margie’s mother said 
it wasn’t worth while for her to bother, for we girls 
never carried out anything like that that we under¬ 
took.” 


76 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Rather poor encouragement!” commented grand¬ 
mother. “How many are in your club?” 

“About ten. It is really just our Sunday-school 
class, but they don’t all attend club meetings, when 
we have them, any more than they attend Sunday 
school. It’s been worse than usual this summer, 
and Miss Vance, our teacher, gets quite discouraged 
about us, especially when only two or three seem 
able to get out at one time.” 

“Are they at home sick?” queried grandmother, 
demurely. 

“Not a bit of it!” laughed Jessica. “They are 
all in what Don calls a state of 'rude health’ most 
of the time; but in summer they are away from 
town, or out on motor excursions, and in winter it 
is too cold, or they are entertaining friends at home, 
or being entertained at some other girl’s house. 
Mamma does not allow me to receive my girl friends 
on Sunday,” a slight note of discontent creeping 
into her voice, “or go out to dinner; and papa will 
not take us out in the motor car on Sunday after¬ 
noon, unless we have been to Sunday school and 
church first. Mrs. Sheldon thinks he and mamma 
are a little old-fashioned about Sunday.” 

“That is certainly a pardonable failing, nowa¬ 
days,” approved Mrs. Keith. “I am glad they have 
not forgotten their early training.” 

“Do you think it is wrong to go motoring on 


THE “NANNY-MAN’ 


77 


Sunday, grandma?” They had reached home, and, 
as the evening was unusually mild, they sat down in 
some wicker chairs on the porch. 

“I am glad you asked me that question, dear, 
for it is getting to be such an important one in these 
days of the motor car, and the general Sabbath¬ 
breaking which its coming and its common use have 
certainly fostered. Let me answer it by telling you 
of a man in our little western town who owns a 
big touring car. Every Sunday afternoon when the 
weather is at all favorable, he fills this big car with 
some of the people in our community who do not 
own and seldom get to ride in a car, and there are 
plenty of them. One day it will be a number of old 
ladies, or old men; another time, a bunch of the coal 
miners’ children; or, perhaps, the boys of his own 
Sunday-school class. He takes them out on the 
pleasant country roads, and sometimes into the 
woods, where he and his wife often spread a lunch 
which has been prepared for him by the town’s 
Social Club, an organization which has for its sole 
object the matter of seeing that the young people 
of the community have a good time, and have it in 
the right way. These Sunday motor parties are 
managed so easily and graciously, that nobody thinks 
of refusing to go, or considers them, in any sense, 
acts of charity. This man’s wife is a fine reader; and 
she often goes with him, and reads to the company 


78 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


from some suitable book, in some quiet country 
nook. This man spends most of his Sunday after¬ 
noons in this way in pleasant weather; and in 
winter he and his wife often entertain a group of 
children or young people at their home on Sunday 
afternoon, with a little musicale or a story-telling 
hour. ,, 

“How delightful!” exclaimed Jessica. “Don and 
I often find Sunday afternoon tiresome, when it is 
not pleasant enough to be out; but we usually 
manage to have an interesting book on hand.” 

“Now let us look at the other side a moment,” 
continued Mrs. Keith. “When the National League 
played its closing game of ball in Kansas City, a 
year or two ago, there were five families from one 
church in our town that left for the city before 
four o’clock in the morning. The pews in that 
church surely looked deserted that day. None of 
these people, however, gained admission to the ball 
field which, before they reached the city, was filled 
to overflowing with those who had not been obliged 
to drive eighty miles to see a Sunday ball game; 
so they spent their time in the parks and picture 
shows. As the hotels were crowded, some of them 
secured very poor accommodations that night, and 
when they reached home, which was not until 
late the next day, they were all tired out and dis¬ 
gusted.” 


THE “NANNY-MAN’ 


79 


“Papa would say, ‘served them right/ ” laughed 
Jessica. 

“Then again, last summer, a motor party of 
nearly one hundred people from a city fifty miles 
away made what they called a ‘Sunday sociability- 
run’ to the large town near us. They arrived in 
town with their noise and dust just as people were 
gathering for the morning service at the different 
churches. They were taken by a committee of 
leading citizens to the hotels for dinner, then to the 
park for speeches and a band concert, after which 
the local motorists escorted them in a run to the 
country club, two miles out, where refreshments 
were again served to the visitors before they left 
for home. The town was in confusion all day. 
Those of the citizens who took no part were de¬ 
prived of their usual rest and quiet, as well as those 
of the large company of caterers, waiters, and other 
workers who had to stay at their posts of duty to 
help entertain the guests. If the Commandments 
are still in force, Jessica,” concluded Mrs. Keith, 
gravely, “which of the two classes of motorists I 
have told you about 'remember the Sabbath day 
to keep it holy’?” 

“I think I can see, grandmother,” replied Jessica, 
thoughtfully, “that there are right ways and wrong 
ways to use motor cars on Sunday.” 


80 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Margaret,” said Mrs. Keith the next afternoon, 
as she sat with her son and daughter on the veranda 
while the children exhibited the jack rabbits to the 
groups of curious passers-by, “why do not you and 
Richard break up your children’s sporting habits?” 

Mrs. Cameron looked inquiringly at her mother, 
and her husband asked gravely, “Such as what?” 

“The matinee fever, the moving-picture craze, 
and the taste for too much light reading,” promptly 
replied Mrs. Keith. 

“I knew something of great weight was on your 
mind, mother,” laughed her son. “I never knew 
you to exclaim ‘Margaret,’ in that impressive tone 
of voice, that it was not the prelude to important 
revelations. If I may be excused for saying so, 
however, I think it is most unfair to fire such a gun 
as that at us, at close range, when we are both en¬ 
tirely out of ammunition.” 

“I am very much in earnest, Dick,” assured his 
mother. 

“So am I. Madge and I have discussed this 
question many times, but we have never yet been 
able to find a remedy for our children’s ‘minds 
diseased.’ ” 

“Turn the currents of the diseased minds into 
new and more healthful channels,” she suggested. 

“I believe we could do that with Jessica,” agreed 
Mrs. Cameron, “if it were not for Marjorie. She 


THE “NANNY-MAN' 


81 


seems to have a passion for picture shows and juve¬ 
nile theatricals. Jessica can scarcely be shut away 
from companionship with her mates on Saturdays, 
and the fad seems to be more pronounced this fall 
than usual. Nothing else seems to fill the bill.” 

“Will not the painting lessons you so kindly 
offered to give her, fill the aching void for Jessica?” 
inquired Mr. Cameron. “Might they not be made 
to serve the double purpose of instruction and 
amusement?” 

“That is why I planned them for Saturday after¬ 
noon,” returned his mother. “And now, if I may 
have your permission and Madge’s to include Miss 
Marjorie in the lessons, the first step in a needful 
crusade will have been taken.” 

Both son and daughter gave a hearty assent to 
this proposal. “I notice Don has not been patron¬ 
izing the Saturday theatricals lately,” added Mrs. 
Cameron, hopefully. “He says they are not inter¬ 
esting any more; and I am hoping that when 
Jessica gets a little older she will see them in the same 
light.” 

“As Don says sometimes, ‘Don’t get it in your 
head that way/ Madge,” returned her mother. 
“Even if she does, there will be, by that time, some 
fellow of Don’s size but perhaps not his good sense, 
to make it interesting for her. Take my word for 
it, my children, the only thing to do is to get that 


82 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


whole bunch of juveniles diverted to some safer 
and saner amusement.” 

“Easier said than done,” sighed her daughter. 
“I confess I have spent many anxious hours over this 
matter.” 

“Why not have mother work up some scheme in 
this direction?” suggested Mr. Cameron to his wife. 
“She must do something this winter to keep from 
stagnating. I half believe she has a plan already in 
view. What do you say, mother? Do you accept 
the commission?” 

“As the politicians say, ‘What is there in it?’” 
laughed Mrs. Keith. “Perhaps, like them, I also 
have a price.” 

“Name it,” promptly rejoined her son. “If you 
can succeed in breaking up our children’s ‘sporting 
tendencies/ as you call them, your price shall be 
paid to the uttermost farthing, and you shall re¬ 
ceive our thanks and blessing besides.” 

“What are you going to do with that discarded 
storehouse which stands on the alley, when you move 
it, as I heard you say you intended doing?” she 
quietly inquired. 

Mrs. Cameron looked at her mother in mute 
surprise for a moment, as if in sudden doubt of 
her sanity; but when she opened her mouth to speak, 
her husband slipped his hand over it. 

“Give her her head, Madge,” he said gravely. 


THE “NANNY-MAN' 


83 


“I am convinced now, that this attack on us was 
premeditated, and that there is 'method in her 
madness/ though slow wits like ours may not im¬ 
mediately perceive it. I know of old, and so do 
you, that if she once sets her head to carry through 
some desired measure, it will go through, though the 
heavens fall. Do you remember the time, mother/’ 
he added, "that you cured our bird dog of eating 
eggs by shutting her jaws together over one filled 
with red pepper? I bet my best knife with the 
hired man, on that occasion, that you would be too 
chicken-hearted to do it; but I lost the knife, for 
you did it, and then went to your room and cried for 
an hour!” 

Mrs. Keith made a little face at her son’s untimely 
jest. "There will be no such sorrowful consequences, 
I assure you, attending the results of a campaign 
against what I believe is a positive evil for a sensi¬ 
tive, active mind like Jessica’s.” 

"Sensitive, perhaps,” agreed Jessica’s father. 
"Active? I am afraid I will have to be shown, 
though since your arrival she certainly seems to be 
waking up.” 

"It is the storybooks from the public library, 
and the picture shows, and the sensational children’s 
dramas, that are working her mental undoing,” 
quietly continued Mrs. Keith. "She tells me that 
she has read as many as five storybooks, as she 


84 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


calls them, in one week, and attended as many 
picture shows or other places of amusement. Living 
in such an atmosphere of excitement, how can she 
have time or strength for healthy mental activities? ,, 

“I know that she has been out, and has read a 
great deal more during the past vacation than I 
wished her to do,” sighed Jessica’s mother. “But 
when school began, I put the ban on evenings out 
during the week, and have checked it as much as 
possible on Saturdays. She is allowed but one 
library book a week, which she gets Friday evening 
and manages to finish by Sunday night.” 

“It is my opinion that mother is right, and 
that we did not put the strings on these evils soon 
enough, or pull them often enough,” said Mr. 
Cameron, decidedly. “But it is never too late to 
mend; and now for your reform measures, mother 
mine. It goes without saying that Madge and I 
are yours to command; also, the storehouse.” 

“You are too absurd, Dick,” declared his wife. 
“What can mother possibly want with that old 
storehouse?” 

“Only Heaven and mother know,” answered her 
husband, solemnly, “and neither one has vouch¬ 
safed me any information on the subject, as yet. 
But I am not disposed to be curious. If she sees 
fit, mother may inveigle the whole restless mob of 
neighborhood juveniles into it at one p. m. on 


THE “NANNY-MAN’ 


85 


Saturday, and turn the key until late bedtime. 
She even has my permission to use the edifice to 
start an opposition show of her own—one with a 
sound moral attached—which I have no doubt she 
is competent to do. By the way, mother, where 
will you have this advance agent of your reform 
measures delivered; for I think the workmen will 
be ready to begin on the new garage within a week?” 

“I intend,” answered his mother, with emphasis, 
“to have it moved down the street two blocks, and 
around the corner, and set in front of that shack 
which the Italian fruit vender shelters himself and 
five children in, and calls home. I wish first, how¬ 
ever, to see the owner, lease the place for a year, 
also the two lots adjoining, and then present the 
lease to the present tenant. With two additional 
lots for his gardening ventures and no rent to pay, 
he will, I think, be self-sustaining by that time. 
Before the building is moved, the laddies of Donald's 
manual-training class will ceil it, put in some win¬ 
dows for me, and do whatever else is necessary to 
make it fit to live in. When this is accomplished, 
that matinee circle of young ladies will, if I am not 
mistaken, furnish it with cast-off furniture from 
their own wealthy homes. Then they will get busy 
and fit out those half-naked children with winter 
clothing—all with my assistance, of course. In 
performing this labor of love for the poor, which 


86 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


we seem to have in our midst even in Cleveland, I 
hope they will find pleasure in something higher 
than impossible pictured romances of western life, 
or juvenile reproductions of sensational French 
plays. This is as far as my plans are laid at present,” 
she added, with a little laugh at her own earnest¬ 
ness, “but I wish them kept secret until I am ready 
for their further execution.” 

Mr. Cameron thrust his hands in his pockets and 
whistled softly. “Poor Pietro Giovanni is our neigh¬ 
borhood problem,” he said. “But it is rather tough 
on us, isn’t it, Madge, that its solution should have 
been deferred until Kansas brains and energy had 
to come to the rescue?” Then, laying aside all 
jest, he continued, “I have thought for some time 
that something should be done for him; but I am 
a very busy man, with many problems of my own to 
solve. I think the Municipal Aid Bureau, or some 
such organization, tried to extend the helping hand 
when his wife died, but their efforts did not pan out, 
somehow.” 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Keith, with as near an ap¬ 
proach to sarcasm as her kindly nature permitted, 
“I understand from Jessica that they offered to clean 
his dirty house for him, and transfer one or two of 
his children to an orphan asylum—proposals which 
any man of spirit would naturally resent. He is a 
hard-working and intelligent man,” she added, 


THE “NANNY-MAN' 


87 


“and with a little encouragement will make a first- 
class citizen.” 

“I am afraid mother thinks we have been a very- 
careless set of neighbors,” said Mrs. Cameron to 
her husband, “as indeed we have; and I am glad 
she has roused us to a sense of our responsibilities to 
these poor people, as well as to our own children 
and their companions. I am sure your plan will 
work out perfectly, mamsie dear,” she added, “and 
you may use the house for your fellow-workers any 
time, and count on my assistance whenever you 
wish it.” 

The children appeared at that moment, and 
begged for a motor ride, so the subject was dropped. 
But Mrs. Keith lost no time the next morning in 
seeking an interview with the owner of Pietro’s 
“shack,” whom she found to be an Italian of some 
means, quite kindly disposed toward his country¬ 
man. Her interest and her gracious manner soon 
secured his consent to her plans, and he also offered 
to move the addition to its new location free of 
charge. In view of the new building, a low rent 
was agreed upon, which Mrs. Keith paid in advance, 
and the lease was promptly made out which was to 
lift the first burden from the shoulders of the un¬ 
fortunate foreigner. 


Chapter V 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 

“I have what I think is a very fine scheme to 
propose to you, girlie,” said grandmother to Jessica 
the next night, after lessons were over, and the 
bedtime chat was well under way. 

“You are a great schemer, gramsie,” returned 
Jessica, gayly. “But I am a lot more stuck on your 
schemes than I supposed, a month ago, it was pos¬ 
sible to be. So spring it.” 

“Thanks for the compliment. Well then, how 
would you like to have Marjorie share your drawing 
and painting lessons this winter?” 

A sudden flush came over the girlish face. Did 
grandmother know or guess half how vexed and 
jealous Marjorie had been over that one blissful 
Saturday afternoon, when she had been left alone 
to choose her own pleasure, while Jessica, joyfully, 
and all forgetful of her chum, delved at grand¬ 
mother’s side into the mysteries of “washes” and 
“tints,” of “chromes” and “madders,” “vanishing 
point and perspective”? And when, as the result of 
the afternoon’s painstaking, she had taken for her 
88 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


89 


teacher’s inspection the following Monday a half- 
blown wild rose with two pink-tinted buds and a 
few perfect leaves, and had received unstinted 
praise from Miss Dunn, who was no inferior artist 
herself, neither a flatterer—did grandmother realize 
the triumph of her granddaughter’s secret heart 
that perhaps here was something, something really 
worth while, that Marjorie could not crow over her 
about, something in which she had no part, and 
could boast no superior knowledge? 

“I—don’t know. I—hadn’t thought about it. 
Why?” she stammered, with a look of doubt. 

It was perhaps as well that the questioner could 
not know, just then, how skilfully her companion 
interpreted that doubtful look and tone. 

“It could be easily managed, if you care to do 
so,” replied Mrs. Keith, in a matter-of-fact tone, as 
she took up her tatting from the table. “As your 
lessons would be alike, it would give you the bene¬ 
fit of comparison and interchange of ideas, as well 
as companionship, and perhaps be a pleasure to 
your chum. I think you said she had artistic 
tendencies.” 

“But she learns everything so much faster than 
I do, and knows so much about water color al¬ 
ready, don’t you suppose she will do so much better 
than I, that we will not get on together, that is, 
not keep together in our lessons at all?” 


90 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Mrs. Keith gave a fleeting glance at the down¬ 
cast, wistful face. “I cannot imagine how any one 
could ‘get on’ any faster than you have done so 
far,” she replied. 

“But Marjorie is a real artist, gramsie,” still 
protested Jessica. “She gets the highest grades in 
our room in water color and drawing, and once last 
fall, when we went to a trial shorthand lesson, just 
for fun, Marjorie made tw r o copies of hers, and on 
one paper she had the funniest things—goblins, 
and kewpies, and everything you can think of, that 
she had made just by adding a few strokes to her 
shorthand characters. Miss Dunn said she should 
study ‘caricature illustration’—whatever that is.” 

Mrs. Keith, recalling Marjorie’s gay, girlish 
quickness, and aptitude for mimicry, mentally 
approved Miss Dunn’s judgment; but she said 
nothing, and presently Jessica continued: 

“And one day Miss Dunn was standing by her 
table, and Marjorie drew her face on the black¬ 
board, a profile view, and it was so natural that we 
all recognized it when we came in; but instead of 
being cross, Miss Dunn praised the drawing, and 
said she ‘was proud to have been an inspiration for 
a budding genius’; and everybody laughed, but she 
meant it.” 

Still the busy worker opposite remained silent, 
quietly counting threads, and Jessica sighed softly. 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


91 


“I know she would like it, though, even if she 
did have to give up her Saturday matinee,” she 
said after a moment, as though in answer to some 
argument of her inner self. “She was real fussy 
last Saturday when I said I did not mind missing 
the Cinderella operetta, for my painting lesson was 
so interesting. Then she said she had missed me 
dreadfully, and didn’t care if she never went to a 
matinee again!” 

“It would be a good thing for Marjorie,” com¬ 
mented Mrs. Keith, “for it would take her mind 
partly away from things of lesser importance, and 
perhaps be the first step toward her future success 
as a real artist.” 

“Is it to be as I say, grandmother?” inquired 
Jessica, doubtfully. “About taking the lessons, I 
mean.” 

“Certainly. You did not think that I would in¬ 
vite her to share your lessons without your approval, 
did you?” 

“Then may I have till tomorrow to think it over?” 

“Have as long as you like, dear. Don’t think it 
over at all, if it does not seem that it would be a 
pleasure to you.” 

Jessica’s bedtime visit was cut short that night. 
She went away to her own room presently, to “have 
it out with herself,” as she said to herself; but her 
mind was in a turmoil of uncertainty, and she was 


92 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


glad when her mother appeared, and she could make 
known to that dear counsellor her doubts and mis¬ 
givings. 

“It would be awfully selfish in me to want to 
keep them all to myself, when gramsie is willing 
to teach Margie, too, wouldn’t it? Margie would 
be so pleased too; but she does so much better than 
I in all our studies, that I simply could not bear to 
have her ahead of me all the time in this.” 

“Don’t let her get ahead then,” advised mamma, 
smiling. “Grandma thinks you have much talent 
yourself, little daughter. If competition is the life 
of trade, why should it not be an inducement to 
excel in matters of art? Think, too, if you can 
forget your own feelings in the matter, of the ad¬ 
vantage to Margie of contact with such a friend as 
grandma every Saturday afternoon this winter. 
You have her all the time.” 

This remark seemed to bring a sudden fear to 
Jessica’s heart. “She says she may have to go home 
the first of March. Do you suppose she will?” she 
inquired, anxiously. 

“Not if we can pull the strings hard enough to 
hold her,” was mother’s decided response. “But if 
she must, that need not prevent our enjoying her 
while she is with us, or giving others a chance to 
do so. Remember your class motto, little daughter.” 

“ ‘In honor preferring one another,’ ” murmured 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


93 


Jessica, sleepily. “That’s just awfully hard, some¬ 
times, mamsie.” 

But with the drowsily murmured prayer, “Bless 
my friends and make me a comfort to them,’ , 
Jessica evidently conquered herself. For as Mrs. 
Keith turned from the window the next morning, 
after taking a last, long breath of autumn air, a 
sunny face, from which all the shadows of the 
previous night had fled, was raised to hers for a 
morning kiss, and a voice without a ripple of regret 
in it said, “I made up my mind before I went to 
sleep, gramsie, and I am glad Margie can have the 
lessons too. Will you ask her today?” 

Mrs. Keith drew the precious granddaughter into 
a very tender embrace, and did not answer for a 
moment. Then she said, “I will ask her mother 
this afternoon. But I shall not ask Marjorie at all, 
for that shall be your pleasure. I was not mistaken 
in you, darling. You are pure gold!”—which was 
very sweet praise, indeed, to come from grandmoth¬ 
er’s lips, and made Jessica inwardly resolve that 
there should be nothing but the most generous 
rivalry between Margie and herself in the new 
arrangement. 

Monday morning had found Mrs. Keith up bright 
and early for the standing engagement with Donald 
and his lessons, to which she looked forward with 
much pleasure. It was only half past six when she 


94 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

entered the library, but he was there before her, 
poring over his geometry, the one study he really 
disliked. 

“ ‘Since the square of the hypothenuse of a right- 
angled triangle is equivalent to the sum of the 
squares of the other two sides, if the equal sides are 
each forty rods long, how many acres of grazing 
ground will the larger square furnish a jack rabbit?’ ” 
she propounded, gayly. 

Donald looked up queerly. “Do you understand 
geometry, grandmother?” 

“Some,” she replied, smiling. 

“That’s the very proposition, ‘barrin’ the rabbit 
part,’ as an Irishman would say, that swamped me 
in my last quiz. That is, it set me back five points. 
I thought I was up on it too; but it floored me when 
I came up against it in the exam, and I don’t under¬ 
stand it well yet. I don’t believe a fellow could 
remember the demonstration a week, anyway, no 
matter how much he exercised his gray matter on it.” 

“That’s where you’re off, laddie. I have not seen 
the inside of a geometry for many moons; but I 
think I can show you.” 

She walked to the library blackboard, picked up a 
crayon, quickly constructed her figure, and went 
slowly but correctly through with the demonstra¬ 
tion of the theorem. Something in the simplicity 
of her line of reasoning smoothed away the diffi- 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


95 


culties of the theorem for the young mathematician, 
and thereafter, whenever he reached the “limit” 
with his one difficult study, he invariably sought 
grandmother for a few minutes, and seldom found 
her wanting in “relief measures,” as he called her 
help. 

“What's doing next?” she queried, as his brow 
cleared. “I was in hopes we might have time to 
initiate our labors this morning with a ten-minute 
run to the beach. The morning is too perfect to 
spend it all indoors.” 

“I am all done, except a paraphrase of the first 
two stanzas of Thanatopsis,' and I can manage that 
at school.” 

“We can dig that out on our way.” 

“But we cannot carry a book very well,” objected 
Don. 

“No, but we can use the set of ready-reference 
tablets which I always carry with me. I mean 
the pages of Memory,” she added, as Donald looked 
mystified. “I am quite certain Thanatopsis' is 
spread out on them, as it is one of my favorite 
poems.” 

The avenue was deserted at this early hour, and, 
as they walked briskly along, they discussed the 
poem, and Mrs. Keith unfolded to her grandson 
some of the beauties of Bryant’s masterpiece 
hitherto undiscovered by him. They returned by 


96 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


way of the Italian’s house, and she took this oppor¬ 
tunity to acquaint him with her plans for its addi¬ 
tion, with some small misgiving as to his coopera¬ 
tion- 

Much to her satisfaction, she found him heartily 
in sympathy with her movement to increase the 
comfort of these foreign neighbors. “Our Manual 
teacher, Mr. Hall, is a trump I” he remarked, with 
boyish enthusiasm, “and will oversee the work for 
us, I’m sure. When we wanted our new 'gym’ 
finished ahead of contract time so we could use it 
for the finals in athletics last spring, and the con¬ 
tractor couldn’t get extra workmen, Mr. Hall gave 
five evenings after school, and got five other fellows 
to help besides. He is always doing things like 
that.” 

The two entered the dining-room glowing with 
life and color. Jessica, who had only just risen, 
gave her brother a half-jealous glance, as he took 
his place at the table. 

“You have the nicest hour of grandmother’s 
time, Don,” she said. “I am almost too tired to 
enjoy my lessons at night. How will you trade?” 

“Not for a kingdom to boot!” declared Donald. 
“We have been holding all sorts of early morning 
communion with ‘Nature and her visible forms and 
I have added another word to my already extensive 
Greek vocabulary.” 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


97 


“What?” interrogated his sister. 

“Thanatopsis, 'a view of death/ I never knew 
what the word meant until this morning. Wouldn’t 
grandmother and I make a pair of healthy, respect¬ 
able looking ‘deaders’ this morning? I almost be¬ 
lieve I could write a ‘pome’ myself. I feel chock 
full of fresh air and inspiration!” 

“You evidently have not let ‘thoughts of the 
last bitter hour come like a blight over your spirit’ 
this morning,” laughed Mr. Cameron. “A dose of 
your new tonic wouldn’t be a bad thing for mamma,” 
he added, with a glance at his wife’s face, which 
lacked the glow of her mother’s. 

“Just what I have been thinking,” affirmed Mrs. 
Keith; “and tomorrow morning, if Don is willing 
to postpone our feast of reason till after breakfast, 
and Jessica will volunteer to take temporary charge 
of the Kindergarten,” with a glance at Harry’s 
rosy face, “I shall rattle around in mamma’s 
place and be Nora’s assistant to set table and bake 
muffins, while you take mamma out for a morning 
spin.” 

“Bright idea!” approved Mr. Cameron; and 
though the new program did not receive a very warm 
endorsement from mamma at first, it was carried 
out on pleasant mornings for several weeks. Jessica 
found a morning round with her merry little brother 
a very effective eye-opener for herself, and Nora, 


98 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


with her usual good humor, raised no objection to 
the new arrangement with Mrs. Keith’s efficient 
help. 

It was remarkable how soon and completely the 
new member of the Cameron family fell into its 
ways, and how swiftly she walked into the hearts 
of its members. Harry soon became her shadow, 
and “dranma” seemed never too absorbed in any¬ 
thing else to give the little fellow the companionship 
he so enjoyed. There had been an unusually strong 
attachment between mother and daughter, and the 
reunion, after the long separation, was very pleasant 
for both. 

“Mamma and grandma just visit all the time,” 
commented Jessica, one day. “I don’t see what they 
find to talk about; and I never knew papa to be at 
home so many nights in succession, or to be so jolly 
as he has been since grandmother came.” 

This was true. Mr. Cameron enjoyed to the full 
the evening reunion with his family, and her moth¬ 
er’s help and presence added much to his wife’s 
spirits at night; so that, whether the evening was 
spent in instructive or amusing games with the 
children, given over to the pleasures of music, or 
to the discussion of newspaper or magazine articles, 
it seemed to go on wings. 

Between grandmother and Donald there was at 
once the most royal good fellowship; the beginning 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


99 


of this, however, dating back to the days he had 
spent with her on the Kansas ranch. 

But it was Jessica—Jessica the dreamer, the in¬ 
dolent—who was most strongly influenced by this 
new force that had come into her home, the mature 
personality of the newcomer acting on her young 
life like the magic of old wine. Encouraged by Mrs. 
Keith’s gentle oversight and timely assistance, 
Jessica soon lost her dislike for her home tasks, 
which had never been burdensome save in her 
mind, and the thought of the painting lesson await¬ 
ing her on Saturday spurred her on to fresh exertion 
whenever she felt like lagging. 

“Friday morning dawned,” as Donald declared, 
“almost on the heels of Sunday night”; and as 
the family rose from its breakfast table it was 
treated to a fresh surprise from the Kansas rela¬ 
tive. 

“Jessica,” she inquired, “how many young ladies 
compose the select Four Hundred which you are 
pleased to designate the 'Avenue Gang’?” 

Jessica flushed slightly as Don laughed at the 
question, but, as she had already learned that grand¬ 
mother never “teased,” she replied promptly, “Just 
ten, now, including myself.” 

“Well,” returned Mrs. Keith, deliberately, “I 
shall be obliged if you will invite them today to be 
your guests and mine, at my expense, to an after- 


100 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


noon performance of ‘Little Lord Fauntleroy’ to¬ 
morrow at the Orpheum theater.” 

The eyes of the entire family were suddenly 
focused on the speaker. 

“I have been in Cleveland nearly three weeks,” 
she added, in a slightly injured tone, “and nobody 
has invited me to attend a picture show or a matinee; 
so I have concluded to invite myself. As I am new 
to city ways, I shall require a chaperon, and, as I 
am getting on toward my second childhood, several 
might not be amiss.” 

“But gramsie,” protested Jessica, feeling suddenly 
that somebody had, perhaps, been lacking in 
hospitality, “we thought you did not approve of 
picture shows or matinees. I am sure papa said so.” 

“Papa has another guess coming,” declared grand¬ 
mother, with a merry twinkle in her eye. “Both are 
all right in their place. How am I to know whether 
I approve what you have here, never having seen 
them? I would ask Don to accompany us, but I 
am certain he would be prostrated with embarrass¬ 
ment in a feminine ‘line-party/ so I shall save him 
to be my escort to The Merchant of Venice, which I 
see is billed to appear in Cleveland soon.” 

Jessica still believed her grandmother was joking. 
“There are so many of us, grandmother, and then, 
too, I was to have my first painting lesson with 
Marjorie tomorrow.” 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


101 


“I have been staying at home rather closely for 
me, so I have quite a little of my last month’s 
allowance left,” insisted Mrs. Keith, with a sly 
wink at her son. “The painting lesson with the 
double number can be sandwiched into the morning 
hours, or postponed for a week. Nothing will sat¬ 
isfy my positive craving for some unusual excite¬ 
ment but a matinee. So don’t forget! Just an in¬ 
formal invitation from me to your girl friends will 
be sufficient. I am certain you will know how to 
manage it.” 

“Thank you, grandmother, I am sure they will 
be delighted!” and Jessica went away to prepare for 
school, still slightly mystified, but wholly pleased. 
Mrs. Keith drew Donald into the library for a short 
private conference concerning her Italians; Harry 
went in search of refreshments for the rabbits; and 
Mrs. Cameron gave one look at her husband’s face 
and burst into a hearty laugh. 

“As the children say, ‘What do you know about 
that/ Dick?” she exclaimed. “What will that 
mother of ours be up to next?” 

“Take my advice of last Sunday, Madge,” he 
answered, wiping his eyes, “and don’t lay a straw in 
her way. I think I can see, however, what she has up 
her sleeve now. She feels that she must be better 
acquainted with that bunch of youngsters before 
she can handle them successfully, and she is only 


102 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


moving her fighting forces to their own ground. 
Believe me, she will wind the whole ball of juvenile 
yarn around her blessed fingers, before the winter 
is half over. ,, 

“You think, then, that she is only making arrange¬ 
ments to fight fire with fire, as we used to do in early 
days in Kansas ?” she queried, doubtfully. “I 
only hope, Dick, the end will justify the means.” 

“Trust mother for that,” he replied, as he sought 
his coat and hat. “She seems to have the situation 
under perfect control.” 

Mrs. Keith had returned Mrs. Sheldon’s first call, 
which had been prompt. She had also been en¬ 
tertained by that lady as guest of honor at an 
elaborate dinner party; and now, with the double 
purpose of making acknowledgments for this 
courtesy, and of asking Mrs. Sheldon to allow Mar¬ 
jorie to share Jessica’s art lessons, she made a 
lengthy call at the Sheldon home. In preferring her 
request she stipulated only that Margie should 
furnish her own material, and be present at every 
lesson in order that the two girls might be kept 
together in their work. Mrs. Sheldon eagerly ac¬ 
cepted the conditions, saying that Marjorie had 
shown quite an inclination for art, but that her 
father had decided it would be a waste of time and 
money at her age. “She is showing a tendency 
toward theatrical life lately,” sighed Mrs. Sheldon, 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 103 

“which quite frightens me, though her father says 
she will outgrow it. She is crazy over matinees, and 
anything is welcome which will tend to divert her 
from them, though I don’t suppose one Saturday 
performance more or less will matter much.” 

“Mrs. Cameron and I think that one more or less 
does matter very much, Mrs. Sheldon,” answered 
her visitor, earnestly. “While I am here, I expect to 
have much time for the children, and it is our desire 
to draw them away as much as possible from these 
questionable amusements. We hope to provide 
Jessica with so many home pleasures this winter 
that she will not care for public entertainments of 
the matinee class, which, we have decided, after 
the coming Saturday she must give up altogether 
for the present. Since she and Marjorie are such 
warm friends, and we have no desire to interfere 
with that friendship, we should like your coopera¬ 
tion in our plans for the coming winter.” 

Before taking her leave, Mrs. Keith seconded 
Jessica’s invitation for the coming Saturday after¬ 
noon, giving as her reason for the proposed theater 
party the one her son had shrewdly guessed, that 
she had “thought this a good way to become ac¬ 
quainted with the young people.” 

Mrs. Sheldon was much pleased, as well as amused. 
“You have certainly made a hit with our young 
people, Mrs. Keith,” she said, as her guest took 


104 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


her departure. “You have my warmest wishes for 
success in carrying out your plans, and shall have 
my assistance, also, in every possible way.” 

The “line-party” of laughing, chattering girls 
which the polite usher showed to their seats on the 
following afternoon somewhat resembled a bevy of 
gayly colored butterflies as they fluttered, swarmed, 
and finally settled in their places in the brilliantly 
lighted theater. Mrs. Keith in their midst, fault¬ 
lessly dressed in plain but elegant black, attracted 
more than one glance to her charming manner and 
refined face; and Jessica’s heart swelled with pride 
as the girls clustered around her grandmother, to 
become better acquainted, and to show, in every 
possible way, their appreciation of her courtesy. 

She was thoroughly acquainted with the book 
which was the subject of the drama, and her quiet 
comments, between the acts, brought out the best 
features of this excellent story for children. At the 
close of the play, “The Holy City,” presented in 
moving pictures, with song accompaniment, was 
also enjoyed by her party of guests, who pro¬ 
nounced the entire performance “too lovely for 
anything.” 

Marjorie, in discussing the afternoon’s entertain¬ 
ment at breakfast next morning, was in high feather. 
“You cannot object to my going to matinees any 
more now, mamma,” she observed, loftily. “We 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


105 


girls have a plan to get Mrs. Keith to chaperone us 
for Saturday evenings too, sometimes, and I am 
sure she will be willing to go quite often. It certainly 
does look better to have a chaperone, especially 
when you can have a dignified, dressy one like her.” 

Mrs. Sheldon had discussed Mrs. Keith’s recent 
call, and her proposed plans for the winter, with 
her husband; and she now gave an amused glance 
in his direction before replying. “You have my 
permission,” she said, “to attend any entertainment 
you wish under Mrs. Keith’s escort, Margie, if you 
will agree not to ask permission to attend the 
theater at any other time.” 

There was an odd note in her mother’s voice, and 
her father’s smile was slightly puzzling, so Miss 
Margie demurred a little. “She might not be able 
to go when I would wish to go very much. Of course 
I could go with the girls then, as I have been doing, 
though she does make you have an elegant time. 
I never enjoyed a play so much in my life; and I 
don’t like the book much, either—Lord Fauntleroy 
is so much of a sissy-boy. Oh, yes, and she took 
us into a swell cafe near the theater, after the play 
and treated us to ices before we came home.” 

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” put in her father, 
dryly, “for if I don’t miss my guess, it will be the 
last matinee this winter, at which you will enjoy 
Mrs. Keith’s 'dignified, dressy presence.’ ” He 


106 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


laughed as he rose from the table, but refused to 
explain himself further. 

“Gramsie,” said Jessica, the next afternoon, as 
together they turned the pages of a portfolio of 
Italian landscapes from which Mrs. Keith had 
taken several studies, “I had an idea yesterday.” 

“She is having two or three a day, regularly now, 
grandmother,” supplemented Donald, from the li¬ 
brary couch. “I think she absorbs them from you, 
for she is at your elbow morning, noon, and night.” 

Mrs. Keith smiled, though she shook her head re¬ 
provingly at her facetious grandson. “What was 
the idea, Jessica?” she asked. 

Jessica turned the pages rapidly until she came 
to a view of Lake Sorrento, wdiich Mrs. Keith had 
copied before coming to Cleveland. 

“You remember you said you did not like your 
copy of this study, that it did not look finished, 
somehow; and I thought yesterday, when we were 
down to Pietro’s for lettuce, that it might make 
it prettier to put that little boy’s figure on the 
beach, picking up shellfish, as you say the Italian 
children often do, or even just playing in the sand. 
He is so round and smooth, he would be really hand¬ 
some if he were not so dirty.” 

“It would not be necessary to paint the dirt, you 
know. That is a very good idea, and shows that 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


107 


you have artistic perceptions, as we say. If I could 
get little Guido to 'stay put’ long enough to get a 
few sketches of him, I think it could be managed.” 

“If we could get Pietro to let us bring him up here 
some night after school, we might wash him up and 
put him out in the sand pile to play with Harry, 
and you could make some sketches of him while he 
played, couldn't you?” she asked, doubtfully. 

Donald clapped his hands approvingly. “Put 
them both into the picture,” he suggested. “Harry’s 
tow-colored Scotch pate would make a swell con¬ 
trast to Guido’s black mop and 'dark, rich beauty,’ 
as they say in novels. Then, rename the picture, 
'Italy and America.’ I wonder if they would be 
harmonious?” 

“In the picture?” suggested Jessica, slyly. “That 
is what we are discussing, isn’t it?” 

Don’s only response to this criticism was to thrust 
his tongue into his cheek, and subside again into 
Heroic Deeds of Great Americans; but grandmother 
evidently found Jessica’s suggestion a pleasing one, 
to the extent of making it serve some purpose of her 
own regarding the “Giovanni tribe,” as Don called 
Pietro’s household. The next afternoon, as soon as 
the children had returned to school, she walked 
down to the Italian’s house. 

It was a perfect day in late September, and, after 
a few minutes’ chat with Beatrice, Mrs. Keith asked 


108 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


that she might borrow little Guido and take him 
up to play in Harry’s sand pile, adding that Jessica 
would bring him back as soon as she came from 
school. 

The sister’s reception of this proposal astonished 
and dismayed her visitor. The two were getting 
quite well acquainted, Mrs. Keith having made 
several visits to Beatrice unaccompanied, that she 
might more easily win her confidence. The girl had 
accepted, with broken but sincere thanks, the 
slightly worn ginghams which Jessica had outgrown, 
and, as the girl was much more careful of her ap¬ 
pearance since this addition to her wardrobe, Mrs. 
Keith had felt that she was making decided progress 
in her friendly efforts. 

But today the girl had scarcely waited for the 
lady to make her request before breaking forth in 
a storm of dissent. Snatching up her little brother, 
who was playing near the visitor’s feet with a wonder¬ 
ful spinning top which she had brought to him, 
Beatrice thrust him hastily into the only room which 
afforded a lock, hurriedly turned the key in spite of 
his loud protestations, and, returning, broke forth 
in another volume of Italian invective. 

It was well that Pietro himself came into the house 
at that moment, for poor Beatrice, thinking the 
proposal to borrow her brother only part of a plan 
to get possession and deliver him over to the dreaded 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


109 


“Society,” was still pouring forth a passionate, one¬ 
sided argument, when her father appeared, noted 
the perplexed expression on the visitor’s face, and 
quieted his daughter’s tirade. Mrs. Keith gently 
explained to him the object of her visit. 

“You know Sorrento, beautiful Sorrento?” he 
inquired, eagerly. “I lived, I was born, near it.” 

Pietro soon succeeded in quieting his daughter’s 
fears that her brother was in danger of abduction, 
released the small victim of the misunderstanding, 
who was still screaming in the next room, and 
apologized for Beatrice’s rudeness. 

The next morning Mrs. Keith took the little 
picture down to show to Beatrice and her father, 
also a fine print of the same beautiful lake, which she 
gave to Beatrice to put upon the wall. In response 
to the artist’s repeated invitation, the girl herself 
brought the small model to the Cameron home the 
following afternoon, a dreamy day in Indian sum¬ 
mer. Carrying out Jessica’s suggestion, they turned 
him loose with Harry in the mound of clean sand 
near the garage, to disport himself as seemed good 
unto him; while Mrs. Keith, seated on a near-by 
garden bench, with Beatrice an interested onlooker, 
made several sketches of his graceful body, and 
round, expressive face. This done, she persuaded 
Beatrice to go into the house to inspect some of her 
pictures, and the two went upstairs together. 


110 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

They had been within for some time, and the 
children were arriving from school, when a mingled 
wail and roar came up from the back yard. This 
revived all Beatrice's fears, and sent Mrs. Keith 
scurrying to the rear hall window. 

The sound of Donald’s hearty, boyish laugh, 
echoing from the back porch, quieted her alarm, 
and the scene from the upper window had the effect 
of causing her to join in the laughter. Growing 
weary of the sand pile, little Guido had turned his 
attention to the jack rabbits. The latter were 
making pantomime performances for the early sup¬ 
per which Harry was allowed to give them only 
under Donald’s direction, as he often overdid the 
matter of rations. Knowing nothing better to do to 
check their mute appeals, such as standing on their 
hind legs, or scratching the ground violently with 
their forefeet, the small Italian shied a handful of 
sand at them with so much skill that they immedi¬ 
ately retreated into the garage, their ready refuge 
when frightened. 

This was too much for Harry. An affront to the 
bunnies was an insult to himself; and almost before 
the second rabbit had disappeared into the covert, 
a handful of sand, hurled by the small owner, smote 
the offender full in the face. 

There was no further waiting for a declaration of 
war, as Don declared afterward, he having come on 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


111 


the scene just in time to witness the first act in the 
breach of peace. Within a minute, the sand fort 
which the two had erected, was a mass of ruins 
from Guido’s sudden, backward fall therein. As 
soon as he could recover his feet and his wits, the 
air became filled with flying sand, vigorous Italian 
and shrill-voiced American protests, as the opposing 
forces hurled the stinging sand at each other as 
fast as their childish fists could gather it up. This 
soon became too tame; and the respective sons of 
Italy and America were pounding each other with 
vigor and venom, when Donald, laughing until he 
was almost incapable of effort, reached the small 
combatants, separated them, and led them away to 
the house to wash the sand from their eyes and ears. 

In the brief but fierce close of the engagement, 
Guido’s little cotton blouse, under the rapid action 
of Harry’s fingers, suffered as many rents as a battle 
flag at the close of a fierce charge. A truce was 
patched up by means of an outgrown jersey of 
Harry’s, which Jessica hastily produced and had 
Beatrice put on the small warrior at once. Beatrice 
herself showed no concern after the first spasm of 
fright; it was evident that at home she was accus¬ 
tomed to discords. 

With a handful of cookies to further cement the 
bonds of peace, Beatrice hurried her young charge 
homeward, after assuring the assembled family 


112 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

that they had both had a “verra good time,” which 
was too much for Don, and he retreated into the 
house to indulge in another spasm of laughter. 


On the Monday evening following the matinee 
party Marjorie was invited to take dinner with 
Jessica. When the meal was over, and the two girls 
curled up together in the bay window for a cozy chat 
until Jessica’s lesson hour arrived, the plan for the 
joint painting lesson was finally unfolded, Mrs. 
Sheldon having preserved silence until further no¬ 
tice, and grandmother having advised Jessica to 
wait a few days before asking her chum, to be 
sure she would not decide to change her mind. 

“I’ve got something splendid to tell you, if you 
think you would like to do it,” she began, but it 
would spoil your Saturdays with the other girls.” 

“What is it?” queried Marjorie, expectantly. 

“Grandmother said she would like you to share 
my drawing and painting lessons this winter, if you 
didn’t mind giving the time,” returned Jessica, going 
straight to the point. “She got your mother’s con¬ 
sent last week, and she didn’t have to wait long for 
mine,” with a loving glance at Margie’s pleased but 
doubtful face. 

“You don’t mean it!” was the incredulous re¬ 
sponse. “Sure thing, I’d like it better than anything 
else I know. Did your grandmother really mean it?” 


GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED 


113 


“Of course; but they will be from two to four every 
Saturday, and that won’t let you go to anything at 
all on Saturday afternoons.” 

“I don’t care. Those old shows are getting tire¬ 
some, anyway. Did Mamma say I could? You 
know I’d rather be with you, even if I do like a 
matinee. Say, kid, you don’t know how much I 
envy you your lovely grandmother, and so do all 
the other girls!” 

Jessica laughed gayly. The process of widening 
the painting lessons to include her chum did not 
promise to be so very painful after all. “Well, she 
seems to be big enough to go around part of the 
time at least, and you may have half of her at least 
two hours every Saturday afternoon. Let’s go 
upstairs and find her, and have her tell you about 
the lessons.” 

They sought grandmother’s room, where they 
found her in the western window transferring the 
colors of a gorgeous autumn sunset as rapidly as 
possible to a block of water-color paper. When the 
last rosy tints had vanished, the artist, having 
secured a very creditable outline of the sky coloring 
and cloud formation, the three had an interesting 
talk on art in general; and before Marjorie took her 
leave plans for the art lessons had been fully com¬ 
pleted, and it was arranged that she was to begin 
on the following Saturday. 


Chapter VI 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 

It was Saturday evening in early October, and a 
drizzly autumn rain was falling. Mamma Cameron 
was still busy with Nora, completing preparations 
for the Sabbath-day meals; papa had returned to 
the office on some important business matter; and 
the trio of Cameron juveniles had settled in the 
library to make the most of a rainy evening, when 
the door opened and grandmother appeared in the 
doorway, her arms full of skeins of crimson wool. 

“I am looking for someone to help me wind up 
my little ball of yarn,” she announced. “And as 
this is Saturday night and no lessons, and the weather 
man has put a ban on going out, I am wondering 
what we can do to kill time till bedtime/’ 

The children scoffed gayly at this. Since grand¬ 
mother’s coming they had had no difficulty in 
making time pass quickly. There was a hurried 
scramble between Jessica and Harry as to who 
should install gramsie in the most comfortable 
chair in the cosiest corner. Then Jessica brought 
a hassock to her side, and, settling upon it, held 
up her arms for the wool, while Harry sprawled on 
114 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


115 


the rug in front of the fireplace, a picture of childish 
content, and watched the bright ball as it grew larger 
and larger in his grandmother’s hands. 

Donald was at the library table, busily engaged 
with his drawing. He was very much interested in 
architecture, and spent much time on his favorite 
hobby. 

Ten minutes later the needles were clicking mer¬ 
rily on the beginning of an afghan for the library 
couch, while from time to time Mrs. Keith gave 
Jessica directions for the shaping of a tam-o-shanter 
she was making for Harry. 

“Tell me a dreat long tory, dranma,” begged 
Harry, bringing his small chair as closely as possible 
to grandmother’s, and laying his cheek against her 
knee. “Bout when you was little, like me.” 

Don looked up from his drawing. “I second the 
motion, grandmother. You must have had many 
an odd or funny experience when you were a girl. 
Papa says times are so changed, even since he was 
a boy, that it is hard to imagine what they were like 
when you were young.” 

“Yes, do, gramsie,” entreated Jessica. “It seems 
so strange that Don and I scarcely knew a thing 
about your life until you came here, and now it 
seems as if we had known you always.” 

“I am afraid pictures of my childhood days would 
look very dull to you children, with your many 


116 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


sources of pleasure and amusement nowadays, re¬ 
plied Mrs. Keith, “but looking back on them I can¬ 
not think they were ever dull or monotonous, though 
they were entirely lacking in the pleasures which 
seem most to appeal to the youngsters of today. 
i “I had six brothers, all older than myself except 
one, and one sister three years older. We lived in a 
large house a half-mile from the little town of 
Lanark, in northern Illinois, on a farm of two 
hundred acres, a big farm for those days. A half- 
mile from our house, down a long hill and up a 
short one, lived Nell and Raymond Graham, and 
never did four children have ‘gooder’ times than we. 
We went to school together, and took turns spending 
the Saturday afternoons together. As Harry made 
the first request for a story, this one shall be for 
him, though you older ones may find it amusing. 
It is an experience we four chums had, just the 
summer before emigrating to Kansas. 

“It was one Friday in early fall that the big 
threshing-machine, which traveled over the coun¬ 
try and threshed for the farmers, finished threshing 
for my father. There were no steam threshers in 
those days, horse power serving the purpose.” 

“I saw one of those old-fashioned machines at a 
farm exhibit not long ago,” commented Don. “I 
wonder the farmers in those days ever got anything 
done.” 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


117 


“Well, this machine threshed thirteen stacks of 
wheat and oats for my father in two days, that fall,” 
returned grandmother, “so you see it was good for 
something after all. We children were almost sick 
because the threshing was going on while we were 
at school, but we comforted ourselves with the 
thought that the strawstack was growing larger 
every hour, and Saturday was coming. 

“I remember that Saturday as well as though it 
were yesterday. It was a perfect October day, and 
that immense strawstack seemed beckoning us all 
the forenoon, as we did our various tasks; for the 
children of those days had to help as long as there 
were odd jobs to be done, and they were certainly 
numerous on a big farm like ours. 

“On this particular Saturday it was potatoes to 
pick up; and not long after sunrise brother Dannie, 
sister Ruth, and I were following an older brother 
with the horse and plow, as he turned over the 
potato hills. Dannie was too little to do much, but 
every little helped, and he was encouraged to do 
all he could. He was just a little bigger than you 
are now, Harry,” with a smile at the bright face 
against her knee. 

“Afternoon came at last, but as we were rising 
from the dinner-table father put something of a 
damper on our plans. 

“ If you children go in the big barnyard to play 


118 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

in the straw/ he said, ‘y° u must keep your eyes open 
for old Sukey. She is very cross, and you must not 
go near her. I told Charlie to shut her into the small 
orchard this morning, but she gets out of it some¬ 
times, and you must be on the lookout for her. If 
she gets after you, the thing to do is to run as 
fast as you can/ 

“Old Sukey was the largest, crossest mother-pig 
we had ever owned, and we children were very 
much afraid of her. At this time she had a large 
family of little spotted porkers, barely old enough 
yet to follow her about; and, as she walked very 
slowly to guard them more closely, we felt certain 
we could keep out of her way. 

“As soon as our playfellows arrived, away we 
hurried to the strawstack. Father had had a large 
harvest that year, and as he had had all the straw 
put into one long stack, twice the length of the big 
barn, we saw no limit to our prospects for fun. 

“Jack, our shepherd dog, knew as well as we what 
was ahead, and came bounding to go with us. Re¬ 
membering father’s caution, we skirted around the 
fences first to locate Mrs. Sukey and her family. 
But we could not find any signs of her presence 
about the big straw pile, the long hog shed in the 
barnyard, or the small orchard father had spoken 
of; so, concluding she had taken her babies for a 
stroll in the west meadow this bright afternoon, we 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


119 


climbed the fence where it joined the stack, and were 
soon chasing each other around on the top. 

“You poor city children never had the pleasure 
of sliding down a freshly made strawstack, did you? 
It is certainly fun. Choosing the highest place, we 
put the dog in the midst, and, holding to him and to 
each other, away we went, pell-mell, over the side. 
Over and over again we climbed the fence and the 
stack, and scudded to the bottom again, until our 
sliding place became worn and we decided to choose 
a fresh one. 

“ 'Come on!' cried Nell. 'Let's go over here where 
the machine stood last, and slide down into the 
chaff. It's awful deep, and we can shut our eyes 
and make believe we are on a ship at sea, and are 
going down into the water.' 

“We looked carefully around our change of base, 
as we recalled father's warning, but saw nothing more 
alarming than an old Dominique rooster on the 
fence; so we surrounded the dog, and proceeded to 
carry out Nell’s suggestion. But we did not slide 
into the chaff but once, and we did not need to 
imagine the danger of drowning, with a much nearer 
and more real danger threatening us. Neither did 
we shut our eyes for long, for we all needed them 
very much at that time, to see which way to run 
to put the most possible room between us and the 
crossest pig-mother I ever saw I 


120 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Mrs. Sukey seemed to have taken a fancy to be 
drowned, too; for she had burrowed into the pile 
of straw and chaff until she was entirely out of 
sight, babies and all! Plump down upon her and all 
her piggies we four children and the dog came in a 
body! 

“For one moment it was a mass of screaming 
children, squealing pig-babies, and terrified grunts 
from the mother; and then we hastily gathered our¬ 
selves up and ran as we had probably never run 
before in our lives. Nell and Raymond reached the 
back door of the barn, which was in two parts, and, 
the upper half being open, they climbed quickly 
and safely over. But Mrs. Sukey was giving me a 
close chase, and, as I had Dannie by the hand and 
was dragging him along, I passed the barn and 
reached a gap in the picket fence which separated 
the barnyard from the chicken-yard. Pushing 
Dannie through so forcibly that he fell on his face 
in the dusty yard beyond, I burst off another 
picket and tried to follow, but by this time Mrs. 
Sukey had caught me firmly by my short skirts, 
and if Jack had not come to the rescue at that 
moment it might have been a serious affair for me. 

“He jumped at the angry mother and nipped her 
savagely in the hind leg; and, as she turned furiously 
on him, I succeeded in following Dannie through the 
fence, Sukey being too fat to follow us. She at- 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


121 


tacked Jack in real earnest; but at our call he 
gave up the battle, jumped lightly over the low 
fence, and we all retreated into the granary to 
collect our scattered senses. But you may guess 
we did not venture into the strawstack yard again 
until we knew Sukey was on the other side of the 
fence.” 

Harry’s eyes were shining like two stars, as 
grandmother came to the end of this exciting tale. 
“That’s the nicest tory I ever heard, dranma,” he 
sighed, happily. “Was it a weally twuly?” 

Grandmother looked puzzled. 

Jessica laughed, and tumbling her brother from 
his small chair to the rug, rolled him over and over. 

“That was a ‘really truly’ about grandma when 
she was a little girl,” she assured him. “Now let’s 
ask grandma to tell us a make-believe, Harry.” 

“Papa is always telling us how much nicer the 
games and amusements were for children when he 
was a boy than they are now,” put in Don. “I 
think myself there might be lots of fun on a big farm. 
What did you do for amusement on rainy days, 
grandmother?” 

“When I was a small girl,” replied grandmother, 
“the favorite game of Ruth, Dannie, and myself 
was playing bear. To show you how simple were 
the old-time amusements, and to keep Harry’s eyes 
open till mamma comes, I will tell you how we did 


122 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

it. It was made up in our own fertile brains, and 
was a game we could not get mother’s consent to 
play with our chums from Graham-Hill; so we usu¬ 
ally played it on rainy afternoons. 

“Our upstairs consisted of four rooms and a 
garret, the rooms not of modern build, but opening 
one into another. The stairs went up from the 
kitchen; and from the room farthest from the stairs 
a small door opened into the garret, which extended 
the whole length of the house, and was lighted only 
by a window at either end. On the high side, next 
the bed-rooms, a man could stand upright; but un¬ 
der the roof at the eaves, our five-year-old Dannie 
had to duck for fear of bumps. As the rear was 
only a storing place for bunches of dried herbs, old 
trunks and discarded furniture, we had little use for 
it anyway, and confined our operations to the 
roomy stretch between the two windows.” 

“I don’t see why people don’t have nice big gar¬ 
rets like that, nowadays,” sighed Jessica. A garret 
would be such a good place to go off by one s self 
to think.” 

“With dust and spiders, mice and bats for com¬ 
pany,” suggested Don. “I would prefer to do my 
thinking in more sanitary surroundings!” 

“All in life that was mysterious and make-be¬ 
lieve,” continued grandmother, “centered for us 
children in the big garret. Here my older sister 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


123 


labored for hours on the raiment of her doll family, 
even to the dressing up of several ears of ‘calico 
corn’ for an Indian family. I had a contempt for 
dolls, but here I pored over ancient histories and 
even my mother's funny old schoolbooks, and 
dreamed of the days when I, too, should write 
books, more fascinating than any I had ever read. 
And here Dannie, fed by the stories of Jack the 
Giant-killer, Aladdin, and Robinson Crusoe, built 
caves of the old furniture, and inhabited them with 
robber bands existing only in his own imagination. 
But about the bear game: 

“Father had an old bearskin coat which the 
moths had spoiled; so mother gave it to us children 
to play make-believe in. Playing make-believe 
consisted of any frolic in which we represented 
witches, fairies, or anything or person save our¬ 
selves. By taking ample reefs in the sleeves, and 
discarding a portion of the skirts, we converted the 
coat into a bearskin that quite suited our taste; 
especially so after we had sewed back some ‘tail,' 
to make a veritable tail some two feet long which 
would make even a nature-fakir smile. Arrayed in 
this fitting garb, Dannie, or one of us girls would 
retreat into the garret, leaving the low door slightly 
open, while the others scattered about on the floor 
of the great spare room a collection of acorns, spools, 
buttons, and what not, kept in the garret for this 


124 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


purpose. These represented strawberries, black¬ 
berries, or any other spoils of the woods suited to 
the season. 

“Then the berry-pickers would get to work, and 
a dialogue something like this would commence. 

“ ‘Oh, Ruthie, whatever is that big, black hole 
over there?’ I would say, indicating the partly 
open garret door. 

“ 'Aw, that’s just the end of a big, black log 
papa chopped down yesterday.’ 

“ ‘But look! it’s got another big, black hole right 
by it. That looks like it might be a bear’s den!’ 

“ ‘You’re crazy, Dot. It can’t be a bear’s den, 
’cause there ain’t no more bears in this country— 
papa says so. Ain’t these fine blackberries? We’ll 
soon have our baskets full.’ 

“An ominous growl now comes from the direction 
of the hole, and then another. 

“ 'Oh, Ruthie, did you hear that noise?’ 

“ 'Yes, but it was nothin’ but a chipmunk, or a 
blue jay.’ 

“ ‘But, Ruthie, it sounded to me just like it might 
be a bear.’ 

“ 'You’re a great big ’fraid-cat, Dot’ (' ’fraid-cat* 
was the worst name we children ever called each 
other), 'and I’m never going to bring you berrying 
again. That’s nothin’ but a—’ Here a little hand, 
wrapped more or less in the end of a great bearskin 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


125 


sleeve, comes in sight at the opening of the garret 
door, accompanied by more and fiercer growls. 

“ 'Oh, Ruthie, do you see that thing stickin’ 
out of that big, black hole? It looks like a bear’s 
paw, a big, black bear’s paw!’ 

“ 'Aw, it’s just a squir’l or somethin’.’ A hairy 
head follows the paw from the garret door, and it 
wags back and forth in imitation of a bear on a 
foraging expedition. 

" 'Oh, Ruthie, lets run! It is a bear, a dreadful 
bear!’ and, leaving our spoils behind us, one of us 
scuds for the curtained alcove by the chimney, and 
the other for refuge under the four-poster bed, 
while the bear goes growling about the room, over¬ 
turning the buckets of berries, and making bear- 
havoc generally. Unlike the bears in real life, this 
one seems to have the power of speech; for as he 
waddles about the room under his mountain of 
bear-skin, he talks to himself something like this: 
'What nice blackberries! But seems to me I smell 
little girls! I’d rather have a fat little girl to eat 
than blackberries. I’ll find one for my dinner.’ 
He proceeds to investigate our hiding places, either 
falling boldly upon the one behind the curtain, or 
dragging the other, with her assistance, from under 
the bed.” 

"Was it a weally twuly bear, dranma?” asked a 
quivering voice, and Mrs. Keith, whose eyes had 


126 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


been following her busy fingers, glanced at the 
troubled, upturned face at her knee, and answered 
comfortingly and laughingly, “Of course not, Harry 
dear. Just grandma and her brother and sister 
playing bear. Didn’t Jessica tell you this story 
was to be a make-believe? 

“The real battle is on, now,” continued the 
story-teller, “and we lunge and wallow about the 
soft carpet, the one who was not found by the 
terrible bear, coming to the help of the bear’s 
victim, until we have had enough for the time. 
Then the berry-pickers flee below stairs to pour 
out some such tale as: 'Oh, mother, we were picking 
blackberries in the timber, when a great, big bear 
came out of a hole in a log and caught Ruthie, and 
we had to fight just awful to get away from him! 
And the bear got all our blackberries, and we are so 
hungry and tired, and, please, mother, we want 
some bread and butter and sugar.’ Then, pres¬ 
ently, down the stairs, having shed his furry coat, 
comes a panting, puffing little boy, and he gasps: 
'Mother, I been a big bear, and I ’most got a little 
girl for dinner; but she got away, and, please, I want 
some bread and butter with sugar on it!’ 

“Sometimes the noise of the conflict proclaimed 
itself too loudly down stairs, especially if father 
was in; and mother’s voice would come up the stair¬ 
way, saying gently, 'Children, aren’t you pretty 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


127 


noisy?’ and we would answer in chorus, ‘We’re only 
playing bear, mother!’ ” 

“You seem to have played the game by a cut-and- 
dried formula,” laughed Don. “I wonder it did not 
get old.” 

“It was not our only rainy day diversion, by any 
means. Another was catching mice and rats in the 
granary. This building had one large downstairs 
room, and two smaller ones upstairs. Father de¬ 
pended on us smaller children, with Jack, and the 
cat, to keep the mice from doing damage to the 
seeds and other supplies stored there, giving us a 
bounty of five cents a dozen on mice, and twice as 
much on all rats caught. Not a very liberal com¬ 
mission, you may think, but as we sometimes made 
a haul of two or three dozen mice in one afternoon, 
and all shared equally in the candy or whatever was 
bought with the prize-money, it was not a bad in¬ 
vestment of labor, which w r as principally fun. In 
an old discarded seeder-box, we used to keep an 
assortment of rags, paper, grass, etc., to furnish a 
tempting home for father and mother mouse, and 
in another part of the granary we had a pile of millet 
or timothy straw, under which was more material 
for mouse homes, which were more or less occupied. 
I have often thought that if the small residents of 
the granary could foresee our coming, and under¬ 
stand our intentions, on one of these invasions, how 


128 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


their mice- and rat-ships must have quaked in their 
gray skins, when we three children, with Jack and 
Nig, the black cat, entered the granary on a rainy 
afternoon! 

“How exciting the chase became, when, as was 
often the case, two or three fat mice were stirred 
out at one time! Or when some cunning old-timer of 
a rat became our prey! We usually gave Jack a wide 
field with the rat, for once let him get his teeth well 
set in the back of a rat, it was not worth much for 
a rat any more! Sometimes we would find a nest 
of wee, pink baby mice. We often hesitated at 
delivering these up to Nig’s sharp teeth, they seemed 
so cunning and helpless, but Nig had no such 
scruples; and, as the bounty included any sized 
mouse, and as father often told us that baby mice 
soon grew large enough to ruin the seed corn, they 
were sacrificed also. What fun it was, when Nig 
and Jack, usually so amiable, tried to secure the 
same prize, and had a round of angry barks, and 
some savage snarls over possession! Or when Nig 
tried to hold two or three victims in his mouth at 
one time! If it is true that "every laugh is a nail 
from your coffin/ we certainly pulled many a one 
from ours in the afternoons we spent catching mice 
and rats in our granary.” 

“I wonder what Helen King would think of that 
for a rainy-day diversion/’ laughed Jessica. ""There 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


129 


was a mouse in our schoolroom one day—Miss Dunn 
was sure some one had brought it in for a joke— 
and when it ran under Helen's desk she fainted!" 

“Yes, and I understand that several other young 
ladies tried to mount the desks, or leave the room, 
while others screamed until they might have been 
heard in the street," observed Don. “Girls of to¬ 
day haven't much mental caliber. Tell us another, 
grandmother. It is not bedtime yet." 

Grandmother glanced at the clock, then at Harry, 
who lay with wide eyes on the rug, his head on 
Jessica’s lap. 

Mrs. Cameron had come in before the last story 
was finished, “Papa will be in soon,” she said. “We 
may as well make an evening of it until he comes." 
She coaxed Harry to her side on the couch, where the 
sandman soon claimed him. 

“Tell us something about your chums," suggested 
Jessica. “Didn't you ever get fussy with each 
other?" 

“Not very often. We used to have too good times 
together to spoil them by very serious quarrels. As 
I have told you, they lived half a mile from us on 
the next hill south, and half-way between the two 
homes was the Graham pasture on one side of the 
road, and ours on the other. As it was one of the 
daily chores of us children to take the cows back 
and forth, we four met twice daily, in cow-driving 


13U JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

time, on the bridge at the bottom of the hill. We 
were never in too much of a hurry on the bridge, to 
lay plans for future good times. 

“It was here, one evening in May, we fixed up a 
plan for a good time which came near being no kind 
of a time at all! It was a custom in the Graham 
family to give Nell and Raymond each a party on 
their respective birthdays; and as the fifth of 
June, Nell’s anniversary, came near, she and her 
brother grew highly excited over the lack of prepa¬ 
rations. The matter seemed to have slipped from 
their mother’s mind, and their hints and questions 
regarding the expected frolic were smiled over and 
passed by. A couple of days before the date, how¬ 
ever, Nell wrung from her mother the admission 
that it had been decided not to have a party this 
year, but to remember her birthday in another way 
which was still a secret. 

“This plan of celebration did not suit Miss Nell, 
and, of course, did not appeal to the rest of our 
quartette. So we held an indignation meeting on 
the bridge next morning, and, forgetting that I was 
to assist in cleaning the garret that day, and that 
Dannie had a garden-bed to free from its first weeds, 
we sat on the bridge, and swung our feet, and con¬ 
sulted and planned, until a series of calls from two 
directions reminded us that even in vacations there 
were chores for little folks. Our scheme was well 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


131 


hatched, though, and in response to Nell’s entreaties 
we proceeded to carry it into effect in our garret 
that very afternoon. 

“Cutting some note paper into small squares, 
we penciled this invitation on each of them: ‘Miss 
Nell Graham presents her compliments to her 
friends, and wishes them all to come to her house 
to a surprise party on next Friday afternoon. 
This is secret. Don’t tell nobody. At two-thirty.’ 

“Folding these three-corner fashion to make 
envelopes unnecessary, we managed to get all of 
them to their destinations before the appointed 
day; for Miss Nelli6 felt the importance of her 
dozen years, and decided to have a birthday party 
of her own arranging. 

“ ‘Mother won’t care, afterward/ she said, 
loftily. ‘Maybe she’ll be glad I could go ahead 
and do it all myself.’ 

“I remember Raymond asking her what they 
would do for something to eat, and can yet see 
Nell’s look of scorn as she told her younger brother, 
‘Oh, I guess mother always has something in the 
house, Raymond Graham, and if there isn’t enough 
to go around, she’ll get up something morel’ 

“Mother gave her consent at once that we might 
attend Nell’s birthday party, never dreaming that 
any underhanded plans were being carried out. 
She gave us, as usual, a small amount of money to 


132 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


buy some simple gift for her, and Dannie and I 
promptly invested the amount in all the peanuts it 
would buy, laying them carefully away until needed. 
It was Nell’s intention to have the visitors appear 
without notifying her mother, as though she had 
had nothing to do with their coming; but before 
the eventful afternoon arrived Mamma Graham 
was Vise,’ as we say nowadays, to the whole affair. 

“As the hour drew near for their guests to arrive, 
the children did not dare to put on their best clothes, 
but their efforts to present a good appearance did 
not escape their mother’s eye. Before the first 
visitor made an appearance, she slipped quietly 
away, leaving a note on the dining-room table to 
the effect that she had gone away for the afternoon, 
and would not be back till late supper-time! There 
was nobody left on the place but Grandmother 
Graham, who was a delicate old lady, and so deaf 
that it was next to impossible for anyone to talk 
with her, and Ezra, the hired man, who seemed to 
be just ‘choring around.’ We learned afterward 
that he had been commissioned by Mother Graham 
to watch the visitors, and see that nothing happened 
to them or the place. 

“The appointed hour brought the entire number 
of guests, with several others who had taken ad¬ 
vantage of the fact that the invitations were to 
‘friends’ to come too. As Nell saw the success of 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


133 


her plan, she was in high spirits; and she ushered 
her company into the house only to find that the 
moving spirit of her previous celebrations had gone 
to parts unknown. She soon found, too, that grand¬ 
ma and the hired man had developed a sudden 
fussiness about the house which amounted almost 
to rudeness! 

“Under the fire of their pointed remarks we soon 
retired to the big barn, where the first casualty of the 
afternoon was soon recorded. It happened to the 
smallest town boy, who fell from a crossbeam in the 
haymow, in a vain attempt to ‘skin the cat’ as Ray¬ 
mond Graham did. The fall to the soft hay could 
not have hurt him, had not some one left a hay 
fork lying with its tines upward, and the falling boy 
struck his arm against a tine, making a slight 
wound, which, however, bled freely. Ezra and 
Grandma Graham bound up the stabbed arm, but 
its uneasy owner followed us about the rest of the 
afternoon, whining to his older sister to be taken 
home. All this put something of a damper on the 
spirits of the rest. 

“Next on the program Elizabeth Lee climbed to 
the top of the large tank filled with water for the 
cattle, and balancing her body across its top to see 
her fair face and graceful curls in its surface, lost 
her balance and tumbled in. When she was fished 
out by the watchful Ezra, she was half-drowned, 


134 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


and wholly wrecked as to crisp muslin and curls! 
She was obliged to stand on the sunny side of the 
barn for nearly an hour, that a sun bath might re¬ 
pair the damage done by the watery one; and her 
appearance when dried out did not tend to repair 
the state of her feelings! 

“We played ‘drop the handkerchief/ and ‘happy 
is the miller/ on the front lawn until we were tired; 
then widened our plan of amusement to a game of 
‘hide and seek/ all over the place, being excluded, 
however, from the house, by Grandmother Graham, 
and from the barn, where the horses w^ere, by Ezra. 
This game soon lost its novelty, and the guests 
began to hint, and then to ask openly, for that 
most important part of a children’s party, something 
to eat. In desperation Nell brought out the peanuts 
which Dannie and I had contributed for the menu, 
but Raymond and two other boys forcibly appro¬ 
priated these, and disappeared with the sack behind 
the barn. This did not help largely to quiet the dis¬ 
satisfaction. 

“ ‘Where’s your mother, Nell?’ asked one, a girl 
from Freeport, who had come with her cousin whom 
she was visiting. ‘When I have a party, my mamma 
stays at home and gets something to eat.’ 

“Nell was ready to cry, but I remember well how 
she resented this remark. ‘You just shut up, Flo 
Carver/ she retorted. ‘This is a surprise party, 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


135 


and we don’t have to have lunch unless we want 
to. My mamma was called away. Besides, I don’t 
remember that you was invited here, anyway, and 
if you’re hungry you can go home and get something 
to eat!’ 

“Leaving the guests to amuse themselves for a 
time, Nell and I finally slipped into the house to see 
if we could not find something which might pass for 
a spread. The pantry door was locked; and the 
little window, usually kept open for ventilation, 
afforded an excellent view of the Sunday cake and 
other dainties that might have been offered to her 
guests. But the window was fastened inside with a 
strong hook! 

“I can see her now as she said in a tone of deep 
disgust, T never knew mamma to lock the pantry 
before. She must have been afraid of Ez getting 
into it for a lunch.’ There was positively 'nothing 
doing’ in the matter of refreshments, and Nell re¬ 
turned to the restless company outdoors and tried 
to divert them by proposing to go back to the barn 
and play in the hay. To this Ezra gave a grudging 
assent, he attending as chaperon. 

“The sun sank lower, and the tired children, 
becoming more and more dissatisfied with their 
entertainment, or, rather, the lack of it, began to 
reproach poor Nell for her lack of hospitality. The 
largest town boy, one Tommy Jones, attempted to 


136 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


browbeat Raymond into bringing him some apples 
from the cellar, which he had seen through the open 
grating; and, when rebuked by Nell, called her some 
rude names. Raymond resented this by slapping 
his guest smartly over the head with a cornstalk he 
had brought from the barn. A pitched battle fol¬ 
lowed, in which Tommy received the worst of the 
encounter from the country lad, who, sitting firmly 
astride him, cuffed him first on one ear, then on the 
other, punctuating each blow with some such re¬ 
mark as, Til show you how to come out here and 
call my sister names/—cuff, cuff—'and tease like 
a baby for something to eat before supper-time'— 
cuff, cuff. 'And now I'm going to let you up, you 
big coward, and I want you to take your big mouth 
and go right home with it, before I have to get our 
hired man to put you off the place!'—a last rousing 
cuff. 'There he comes now,' added Raymond, as 
Ezra, hearing the screams of the bully, and the ex¬ 
cited voices of the other children, came toward the 
house. 

"As it was really getting late, and mother had 
told Dannie and me to be sure to have the cows at 
home before sundown, we assisted our somewhat 
distracted hostess by persuading the company that 
it was time to go home. We told them that if they 
would come with us we would show them a robin's 
nest in the tree by the bridge, 'that had young robins 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


137 


in it.’ I have laughed many times since on recalling 
the anger and disgust of the small mob when Dannie 
and I, after we had climbed the pasture fence and 
had put a safe distance between ourselves and the 
rest of the party, pointed to the very top of the willow 
tree. There hung only the ragged remains of an old 
bird's nest, which had not seen young robins since 
the summer before! It was the 'last feather' for 
the tired surprise-party goers. Dannie and I were 
accused of being in the secret of the horrid surprise 
party—as indeed we were—and they paid their 
parting respects to us in a warm bombardment of 
clods and stones from the roadside, as we went to 
the back of the pasture for the cows. 

“Reaching home, Dannie and I were surprised to 
find Mrs. Graham curled up with mother in our 
cosy parlor, busy with some fancy sewing. She took 
her departure as soon as we came in, asking us, 
however, if we had had a good time. To this, Dan¬ 
nie having left it to me to reply, I said, T guess so,' 
and left her to draw her own conclusions. 

“It was long before we heard the last of that 
surprise party. We later learned, through mother, 
that Mamma and Papa Graham had made arrange¬ 
ments for Nell and Raymond to go with their father 
the following week on a trip to Chicago. There 
they had an aunt and uncle and any number of 
cousins, a visit to whom at that time would have 


138 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


been a treat beyond the wildest dreams. After 
their father had heard Ezra’s report of the trials of 
the young host and hostess on that unfortunate 
afternoon, he felt that they had been sufficiently 
punished, and pleaded that they still be allowed to 
go. But Mrs. Graham sternly refused her per¬ 
mission, though she was usually a most indulgent 
mother; and they were obliged to see him go alone 
on the following Monday morning, leaving them to 
the sorrowful thought that they had spoiled a mighty 
good time for themselves. As for Dannie and me, 
when our part in the surprise became known, we 
were punished by not being allowed to go to visit 
our chums until the end of the month. And, as 
Mrs. Graham did not allow them to come to us, our 
only chance of meeting was at the foot of the hill 
at milking time, and at Sunday school. It was as 
well, perhaps, for we were all so sore and disgusted 
over the outcome of the ‘surprise party’ that I 
doubt if we would have treated each other 
decently, if we had met oftener.” 

Don had long since pushed aside his drawing 
book, and given himself up to the enjoyment of 
grandmother’s story, indulging in a spasmodic laugh 
occasionally. 

“That was sure some surprise party!” he com¬ 
mented, as the story-teller folded up her knitting. 
“Something doing all the time! Say, grandmother, 


DAYS OF LONG AGO 


139 


why don’t you put a lot of that stuff in a book, and 
have it published? It would make mighty good 
reading, wouldn’t it, sis?” 

“Maybe she will, some day,” laughed Jessica, 
significantly. “Here comes papa,” as a step was 
heard in the hall. 

“This is certainly a wild night!” declared Mr. 
Cameron, entering the cosy library, and hastening 
nearer the fire. “I am glad my flock is so com¬ 
fortably housed. By the way,” glancing around the 
room, “isn’t the flock keeping rather late hours?” 

“Grandmother has been spinning yarns about the 
days of long ago, papa,” said Jessica, “until we have 
forgotten the flight of time.” 

“Did she charm Father Time into forgetting to 
fly?” asked her father, glancing at the clock which 
pointed to a few minutes past nine. “I have twenty 
minutes after eleven,” looking at his watch. The 
clock had stopped! 


Chapter VII 


THE “JOY-RIDE” 

“Papa,” said Donald, as the family rose from 
luncheon one day the following week, “our high 
school has a joint debate with the one at Niles 
Junction tonight. Some of the teachers and a num¬ 
ber of the students are going over and I told Claude 
that with your permission I would take the car and 
take him and Margie and Jessica. It is only ten 
miles over there, and the moon will be full.” 

Mr. Cameron reflected a moment, then shook his 
head doubtfully. “I would much rather you would 
not, Don,” he replied, glancing at his wife. 

Jessica intercepted the look. “Mamma said we 
had her permission, if you didn’t object,” she inter¬ 
jected eagerly. “It won’t be late, papa. The de¬ 
bate will be over by ten o’clock, and we will come 
right home afterward. Don is so careful with the 
car that I feel as safe with him as I do with you.” 

“I think I may safely be trusted with the car,” 
added her brother. “I have run it a good many 
miles without anything happening to it.” 

“It is not a question of your ability to manage 
140 


THE “JOY-RIDE’ 


141 


the car, laddie,” answered his father. “It is that 
I do not approve of these late night excursions for 
you school children. It must certainly unfit you 
for your next day’s work.” 

“But nearly everyone else is going,” urged the 
boy, with slightly rising color. With Donald, to ask 
was usually to receive, as his requests were few 
and reasonable. “I think we might be allowed to 
go once in a while. This is our school work, and the 
teachers wish as many students to go as possible.” 

“Do you have a part in the debate?” 

“Only as I have volunteered my services as a 
rooter! Please let us go, papa. I’ll be ever so care¬ 
ful with the car.” 

“I cannot, Don. I don’t care for the car part—I 
would trust you anywhere with it—but I cannot feel 
that it is best for you, and certainly not for Jessica.” 

“But I told Claude I was sure we could go. I’d 
hate awfully to go back and tell him now that we 
cannot. It will look so queer.” 

“I am sorry, Don. You should not make definite 
arrangements until you know. How are the others 
going? He and Marjorie might go with some of 
them.” 

“Most of them on the trolley. Mr. Sheldon said 
they could not go on the trolley, nor with anyone 
but me in a motor. Please say yes, this time, papa. 

“I would rather you did not go, my son. I could 


142 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


not think of allowing you and Jessica to use the 
street cars at night without suitable escort, and 
‘joy-rides’ have been far too numerous with our 
young people this past summer.” 

Mr. Cameron spoke with decision, and Donald 
knew there was no further appeal from his verdict. 

“Very well, sir,” he said, with an outw T ard show 
of respect, turning toward the door. “I will tell 
Claude that he will have to make other arrangements. 
Are you ready, Jessica?” and he passed from the 
room in the wake of his sister without another word. 

Mr. Cameron stood in the window and watched 
the two as they walked together down the avenue. 
The lad’s head was a trifle higher than usual, and 
his sister’s disappointment manifested itself in an 
occasional impatient kick at the pebbles which lay 
in her path. He sighed deeply, as he turned from 
the window and prepared to return to the office, and 
two pairs of eyes met his sympathetically. 

“That was hard, dear, wasn’t it?” said his wife, 
gently. 

“It is hard for fathers, and I suppose for mothers, 
too, to combat the evil tendencies of the age in 
which we live,” he answered. “I cannot help wish¬ 
ing, sometimes, we had the children out on some re¬ 
mote Kansas ranch, somewhere.” 

“I need a capable manager for mine,” suggested 
his foster-mother, half in jest, half in earnest. 


THE 11 JOY-RIDE 1 


143 


“Just such a one as you would make, Dick. We 
will take them 'far from the madding crowd' to¬ 
morrow, if you say the word." 

Mr. Cameron's answering smile at this sally was 
rather faint. "My responsibilities as a parent seem 
almost greater than I can carry, at times," he 
sighed. "If the laddie just doesn’t lose confidence 
in my judgment for a few years yet!" 

"Donald will see it your way some day, if he does 
not now," assured Mrs. Keith, confidently, as her 
son, with a troubled face, departed officeward. A few 
short hours showed the correctness of her prophecy. 

It was mid-afternoon, when Mr. Cameron, an¬ 
swering a telephone call, heard his mother's voice: 
“The Merchant of Venice is to be presented at the 
Orpheum tonight, with John Drew in the role of 
Shylock," she announced. "I have secured a box 
which was given up at a late hour, and I would be 
pleased to entertain the Cameron tribe in it. May 
we not have an early motor ride, and then take in 
the play? This will lessen the children's disap¬ 
pointment, somewhat, and perhaps help you to 
forget, for a time, those heavy responsibilities you 
spoke of today. Margaret is much pleased with 
my plan, so I hope it will meet your approval also." 

"You are always ready with the right thing at the 
right time, mother," he responded, in a tone of 
evident relief. "That’s a fine program all ’round." 


144 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


There was a slight tension at the Cameron dinner- 
table that night, Jessica still slightly sullen, and her 
brother frostily reserved. But grandmother’s an¬ 
nouncement of the pleasure in store for the evening 
quickly dispersed the clouds, and sent Jessica off into 
a flutter of excitement as to what she would wear on 
such an important occasion as her first real theater 
party. 

“My cream-colored mulle will be prettiest,” she 
decided. “It has short sleeves and a Dutch neck, 
and the trimming is really handsome. Mamma will 
never let Miss Yount cut my evening dresses low 
like the other girls’. She says I am too young,” and 
recalling her other troubles of the day, she sighed, 
as though the parental decree were something hard 
to be borne at times. 

She was standing before her mirror, putting the 
last touches to the dainty, girlish toilette, when 
grandmother, who had arranged her hair and other¬ 
wise superintended her dressing, slipped from the 
room and in a moment returned. “Allow me to 
administer the finishing touch, and complete the 
beauty of the Dutch neck,” she said, lightly, as she 
fastened about Jessica’s plump throat a string of 
handsome gold beads. 

“I intended giving these to you when I came, 
Jessica,” she said,“but the settings were old-fashioned 
and much worn, so with mother’s advice I had them 


THE “JOY-RIDE” 


145 


restrung at the jeweler’s. They are a real heir¬ 
loom, for they were the property of my Scotch 
grandmother, years and years ago.” 

Jessica’s eyes danced with delight as she noted 
the beauty of the yellow globes on their glittering 
chain. She had all a fair young girl’s pleasure in 
beautiful adornment, and she turned and flung her 
arms around Mrs. Keith’s neck, somewhat to the 
detriment of that lady’s own dainty frills. “Oh, 
gramsie!” she cried, “you are always doing such 
sweet things for me, and this is the loveliest surprise 
of all! Is it—are they really mine?” 

“All yours,” smiled the giver. “There is quite a 
history attached to them. About a year before 
your mother’s eighteenth birthday, at which time 
I intended giving them to her, a pet crow we had 
hid them in a hole under the garret window. There 
they lay for fifteen years, until we tore the old 
house down and found his nest.” 

“How did he get them?” 

“He stole them from an uncovered jewel box on 
my dressing-table. We suspected he must be the 
thief, as nothing else seemed to be missing at the 
time, but we did not find his hiding-place until 
many years after.” 

“How funny!” exclaimed Jessica. “Does mamma 
want me to wear them tonight?” 

“She made the suggestion,” returned grand- 


146 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

mother. “This is quite a proper occasion, I 
think.” 

“May I show them to Don?” and without waiting 
for further permission than Mrs. Keith’s answering 
nod, she danced down the stairs to the library, where 
Donald, having completed his dressing, was poring 
over the play he was about to see performed. 

He took in her appearance with quick approval. 
Don was secretly both fond and proud of his pretty 
sister. “Gee! but we are some dolled up, aren’t 
we?” he commented. “Those yellow marbles are 
sure some hummers, sis. Who did you borrow 
’em of?” 

Jessica turned up her nose indignantly, and lightly 
cuffed his ear. “I don’t wear borrowed finery, 
thank you. These are mine, if you please, a family 
heirloom handed down from several generations 
back. Even Helen King, who is always showing off 
her jewelry, has nothing finer than these.” 

“They’re sure the hot stuff!” agreed her brother, 
and Jessica fluttered away to find her mother. 

The whole family, including the faithful Nora, 
then went out for a pleasant spin over the beautiful 
driveways of the city, through the soft, autumn 
twilight; and later Don and Jessica sat with grand¬ 
mother and their parents in the spacious theater, 
witnessing the masterly portrayal of the great 
English dramatist’s most wonderful production, 


THE “JOY-RIDE” 


147 


presented by a cast of exceptionally fine actors. 
Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare had long been a 
favorite book of Don’s, and Mrs. Keith had given 
Jessica a simple outline of the play as they whirled 
along in the motor. She further explained the cast 
of characters to the children before the curtain rose 
on the first act. Leaving the young people to the 
enjoyment of their first night of Shakespearean 
drama, let us follow the fortunes of Claude and 
Marjorie Sheldon in their first “joy-ride.” 

They had secretly consented, after Don’s report 
of his inability to attend, to go to the Niles debate 
with Frank and Helen King in the Kings’ motor 
car. With the excuse that she had left her motor 
coat at Helen’s the Sunday previous, and that they 
would go around that way and get it, Marjorie and 
her brother left home early, and were soon speeding 
toward Niles in the luxurious motor. It was a beau¬ 
tiful evening. The glow of a full moon, mingling 
with the mellow autumn twilight, obscured the 
threatening appearance of a bank of dull, low-lying 
clouds showing faintly near the horizon line, and the 
spirits of the quartet flying along the level road 
leading westward out of the city rose with each 
mile covered. 

They had not gone half the distance, however, 
when it became apparent that something was wrong 
either with the helmsman or the machine, which 


148 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

veered oftener and oftener from the road as they 
sped through the small hamlets scattered along the 
way. 

“Wonder what in thunder’s the matter with this 
old car, anyway!” muttered the driver, at length, 
in an uncertain tone of voice. “Gettin’ so sociable 
it wants to stop at every shanty on the road. Here, 
Margie,” for the boys had exchanged sisters when 
they started out, “spose’n you sit over here and drive 
her a while. I’ll hold you in, see?” and he made an 
awkward attempt to rise. 

“Here, cut out that monkey-business, King,” said 
Claude hastily, who, from his seat by Helen in the 
tonneau, had been watching their chauffeur un¬ 
easily for some time. “What’s the matter with you, 
anyway? It looks to me as if you have all you can 
do to manage the car, without paying attention to 
anything else.” 

The young man at the wheel applied the brake 
until the car came nearly to a standstill, then turned 
toward Claude. “You go chase yerself, Sheldon,” he 
said, thickly. “Marg and I are runnin’ this whizzer, 
ain’t we, ducky?” And he put his arm lightly about 
his companion’s waist, and attempted to kiss her 
as the car glided slowly along. 

Under other circumstances Marjorie might have 
made light of his demonstrations, but now she seemed 
to feel that they were decidedly out of place before 


THE “JOY-RIDE’ 


149 


her brother and Helen, so she gave him a vigorous 
push, and replied pettishly, “Oh, shut up, Frank, 
and run the car yourself, if you know enough, or 
else let Claude do it!” 

“Don't get fussy with your honey-boy,” persisted 
the too-attentive pilot. “I'd just like to give you 
a lesson in how to run a good car. But if you're 
going to be stingy with your favors, I’ll call it all 
right anyway, and give you all a sample of what 
this machine can do.” 

He settled himself in the seat, threw open the 
lever with a jerk, and the speed of the car increased 
rapidly. Claude's suspicions of the last few minutes 
were swiftly becoming verified, and now he sprang 
over the seat to the wheel and soon brought the 
machine, which was fairly whizzing over the smooth 
road, to a sudden standstill. 

“Get into the back seat with your sister, Frank,” 
he demanded, “and see if you can’t pull yourself 
together before I have to throw you out of the car!” 

Helen suddenly burst into tears. “I know what’s 
the matter with him,” she sobbed. “He drank 
nearly a whole bottle of wine before we left home. 
He told the butler he was afraid he was going to 
have a chill, and wanted something to warm him 
up, and made James get it for him.” 

“Oh, Claude!” cried horrified Marjorie, “what 
shall we do?” 


150 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Do?” echoed her brother, in deep disgust, “We 
are going right back home; that's what we are going 
to do!” 

This decided verdict on Claude's part, together 
with the general alarm of the party, brought the 
gay Mr. King partly to his senses. “Not with this 
car, you don't!” he asserted. “I’m boss of this car 
yet. I’m all right now. Must have taken a swallow 
too much, and it went to my head,” he added, sul¬ 
lenly, exchanging seats, however, with Claude. 

“ ‘When the wine is in the wit is out,' ” muttered 
Claude to himself, as he started the motor. “Don't 
fret, Margie,” he said to his sister, who was almost on 
the verge of hysterics, “We’ll get this outfit to Niles, 
and then you and I will go home on the trolley.” 

But Marjorie immediately tabooed any such 
course of action. “I wouldn’t leave Helen alone 
with him for anything in the world!” she declared. 
“I don’t see how you can propose such a dreadful 
thing, Claude!” 

Helen emphasized Marjorie's decision by declaring 
tearfully, that if they deserted her poor brother 
before he was “all right,” she would never forgive 
them as long as they lived; and, as they were nearing 
their destination, Claude kept on the way and said 
no more. They soon drew up at the garage in Niles 
where they intended leaving the car for safe-keeping, 
and Frank stood stupidly by while Claude assisted 


THE 11 JOY-RIDE 1 


151 


the girls to alight, and disposed their wraps safely 
away in the car, while they gathered up their 
slightly scattered senses! 

Once on the street, however, and moving in the 
direction of the hall where the debate was to take 
place, Master King once more became unruly. “Who 
wants to go to any stupid, one-horse school debate?’’ 
he inquired, loudly. “Let’s cut her out, and go to 
this movie just across the street. They always put 
up a rattling good show there.” 

* After a hasty conference with Helen, who dreaded 
the appearance of her brother among his Cleveland 
acquaintances in his present condition, Claude 
wrung from him a promise to return home with them 
as soon as the first performance was over, and they 
all crossed the street to the picture show. 

It proved to be a not overvivid presentation of 
Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities , and possessed but slight 
interest for young Mr. King, whose present mental 
state seemed to call for some more exciting form of 
entertainment. His rattling fire of silly comments 
on the screen drama, and his too-persistent atten¬ 
tions to two young girls who sat in front of him, 
soon drew the manager’s attention. The latter at 
first requested, and then insisted that he leave the 
building; and, fearing more serious complications, 
the rest of the party persuaded him to go outside 
with them. 


152 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


They walked the streets for some time, under 
pretence of finding some of the other parties from 
home. Claude was now really alarmed by Frank’s 
condition, and feared that he would be unable to 
control both him and the motor during the home¬ 
ward journey. But as the cool night air and the 
exercise helped to wear away the effect of the wine 
on his addled mind, Frank began to realize some¬ 
thing of the shame of his conduct, and insisted on 
leaving for home at once. They readily accepted 
the suggestion, and sought the garage where they 
had left the car. Here the first act of the young 
owner was to slip into an inner room under pretence 
of paying the storage charges, and there accept a 
drink from an attendant, of something far more 
dangerous for him than the wine on his father’s 
sideboard! 

Claude, half guessing his intention, hastily fol¬ 
lowed him in time to knock the bottle from his 
hand before he had secured more than a small 
portion of its contents. Sternly giving him a piece 
of his mind, Claude hurried him to the car, where 
he insisted on taking possession of the wheel; and, 
as he seemed inclined to be quarrelsome, Claude dis¬ 
posed the girls in the rear seat, and, placing him¬ 
self by the driver, ordered him to “get for home.” 

Frank started out with the car evidently under 
good control, and the trio was beginning to breathe 


THE “JOY-RIDE’ 


153 


more easily, when their chauffeur, who was rapidly 
yielding to the control of the stronger liquor to 
which he was not accustomed, remarked that he 
“would just show these Niles guys a turn or two 
in fancy driving by a Cleveland expert.” Letting 
out the machine, he proceeded to cover the ground 
of the principal streets at a speed that soon had 
the eyes of some of the citizens following his dizzy 
flight, and attracted the notice of the authorities. 
At the risk of his life Claude once more displaced 
the reckless chauffeur and took command of the 
car, stopping it just as an indignant city official 
reached its side, and arrested its driver “ in the name 
of the law” for exceeding the speed limit. 

Claude met the officer’s ultimatum with earnest 
though most polite protest. “The machine was out 
of the driver’s control for a few minutes,” he ex¬ 
plained, “but I can manage it perfectly well, and we 
are leaving town at once. We live in Cleveland.” 

The officer grinned. “I judged as much,” he re¬ 
turned, grimly. “Just cut that out, young sport,” 
he now commanded, gruffly, as Frank, more com¬ 
pletely under the influence of the liquor he had taken, 
poured out a volley of defiant threats. “I seen,” 
said he, “that it wasn’t you that was doin’ the speed 
act; but this guy that was drivin’ a few minutes ago 
is plain drunk and can’t bluff me any. Sorry for the 
ladies [Helen was weeping silently], but I’ve had 


154 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


particular instructions to herd this speeding busi¬ 
ness, and run in everybody that violates the rules. 
So you’ll have to come with me, my giddy friend, 
and explain to my boss why you can’t spend an hour 
or two in Niles, without puttin’ people’s lives in 
danger.” 

In the most courteous language Claude apologized 
for his companion’s fast driving and abusive lan¬ 
guage, admitting, with much reluctance before Helen, 
the cause of his recklessness, but adding that the 
liquor had been given him at the Niles garage. The 
two girls pleaded with the man of the law to let 
them go quietly home under Claude’s protection, 
and the united arguments might have prevailed had 
not Frank been prompted by the demon of the liquor 
he had taken to say, just as the others had hopes 
of being allowed to depart, “You’d better get your 
paw off’n that wheel, old man, and let us whirl 
out of here, or I’ll put a crack in your cocoanut,” 
at the same time displaying a small revolver. 

Thoroughly incensed now, at this open defiance 
of law and himself, the officer promptly insisted on 
the entire party accompanying him to the police 
station. As a curious crowd was beginning to col¬ 
lect and Frank was becoming more disorderly each 
moment, Claude took charge of the two girls and 
followed the officer and his turbulent victim of the 
law, to the little building which did duty as a 


THE “JOY-RIDE” 


155 


station house. Here the police sergeant in charge, 
after hearing Claude’s story, pitied his evident 
strait, and gave him permission to take the two girls 
to a hotel near by, until the offender’s case should 
be disposed of. Here the girls sat for two hours, 
subjected to the curious scrutiny of transients in 
the small parlor, while Claude, at Helen’s pitiful 
entreaty, returned to the station-house to champion, 
as best he might, the cause of her erring brother who 
had brought this calamity upon them. It was past 
midnight before the majesty of the law was satisfied 
by Claude’s payment of a heavy fine with a check 
drawn against his father’s bank account, and signed 
by himself, which the judge finally agreed to accept 
—he would have none of Frank’s—and the young 
offender, now thoroughly sober, was allowed to 
leave the station-house. 

It was a very subdued “Cleveland sport,” as he 
had styled himself earlier in the evening, who took 
the place Claude curtly assigned him by his sister 
in the rear of the car, and was whirled away toward 
home. None of the party seemed inclined to speech, 
and the “joy-ride” proceeded for some time in 
silence, broken only by the soft purring of the 
motor. 

If the truth were known, each member of the 
party was taking a mental review of the events of 
the evening, and the result of their reflections was 


156 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


decidedly depressing. But their troubles were not 
over, and worse was yet to come! 

The moon had disappeared, her golden glory 
swallowed up in a mass of ragged clouds, through 
which the lightning played at intervals. With a 
firm hand on the wheel and a watchful eye on the 
road which stretched like a ribbon before him, bril¬ 
liantly lit now by the soft glow of the motor lights, 
Claude sent the trusty car through the night as 
rapidly as he dared; but they had covered scarcely 
half the distance between Niles and home when a be¬ 
lated equinoctial gale burst upon them in all its fury. 

They had failed to note the rapidly freshening 
breeze, or give due heed to the sullen roll of thunder 
which would have warned more seasoned night- 
motorists of the nearness of the storm. Having made 
no preparation for such misfortune to come upon 
them out of the peaceful autumn night, they were 
completely drenched before they could protect 
themselves from the fury of the storm by the hastily 
arranged motor curtains! 

Not daring to trust the still dazed owner of the 
car to manage it for even the short distance between 
the two homes, Claude drew up at the King’s garage, 
where he turned the car over to the sleepy chauffeur 
who slept in the garage. Then, wrapping his own 
coat around his shivering sister, he bade Helen a 
brief “ good-night,” and set out for home with Mar- 


THE “ JOY-RIDE ’ 


157 


jorie, ignoring Frank’s mumbled apologies for the 
evening’s disasters. As Father and Mother King 
were absent from home and the house servants 
asleep, the young people admitted themselves by 
means of Frank’s latch key, and were thankful 
to appropriate to themselves warmth and rest, 
without being compelled to answer annoying 
questions. 

But Mrs. Sheldon, awake and alert since the 
beginning of the storm, met her children at the 
door, and was too alarmed over Marjorie’s soaked 
condition to more than ask them hurriedly what 
had kept them out so late. Claude’s face was 
strained and white, and, like a wise mother, she 
accepted his statement that he was “all in,” and 
would tell her everything in the morning. The lad 
was rugged, and disclaimed the need of further 
attentions than dry clothing and a warm bed. As 
Marjorie, however, had been somewhat delicate 
from early childhood, Mrs. Sheldon did not rest until 
she had swathed her daughter’s shivering form in 
warm flannels, given her a hot drink to ward off the 
danger which lay for her in such a severe exposure, 
and administered a mild sedative to allay her ex¬ 
treme nervousness. The immediate effect of the 
latter was to induce a restless, unrefreshing slumber 
and poor Marjorie seemed likely to pay the full 
price for her misdoing and deception! 


Chapter VIII 


SHADOWS 

Donald and Jessica had cause to approve their 
father’s wise judgment many times in the course 
of the following week. They had scarcely arrived 
at school on the following morning when the story 
of the escapade which had ended so seriously for 
their favorite friends, Marjorie and Claude, reached 
their ears, and from one source and another they 
were soon in possession of all the sorry particulars. 
Exaggerated, as the first report of such affairs al¬ 
ways is, its real seriousness was confirmed by the 
absence from school of all the parties concerned. 

On her return home at the close of the half-session, 
Jessica went at once to her room; while Donald, 
somewhat disturbed, sought his mother. “Let me 
finish setting the table, mother,” he said, queerly. 
“You had better go to Jessica. She’s in her room.” 

Mrs. Cameron looked up quickly at the odd tone 
in the boy’s voice. “Is she sick?” she queried, 
anxiously. 

“It is nothing more than a mental upset, I guess,” 
he answered, doubtfully. “But it seems to have hit 
158 


SHADOWS 


159 


her pretty hard, and will probably require the atten¬ 
tion of the family physician,” meaning his mother, 
“to effect a cure.” 

“You speak in riddles, son. What has happened?” 

“Well, mother, the plain truth is that Marjorie 
and Claude went to the Niles debate, or, rather, 
went to Niles with Frank and Helen King in the 
Kings' car last night, without telling their folks 
that we were not going. Frank got some liquor 
somewhere, and made a fool of himself generally. 
He was boisterous at a movie which the four went 
to, instead of going to the debate, and was after¬ 
ward arrested for speeding; and it was pretty late 
before they got the matter straightened out. The 
names of the entire party leaked out, and some smart 
reporters that were down from here caught on, and 
even got a snapshot, in some way, of the four. 
This came out with the whole story in a Cleveland 
paper this morning. Helen is nearly crazy with the 
notoriety of it all, and Marjorie is sick in bed from 
the effects of the wetting she got. They were so 
late getting started home that they all got soaked.” 

“But I see nothing in all this to prostrate Jessica,” 
returned his mother quietly. “Marjorie is not 
dangerously ill, is she?” 

“Not that they know yet,” stammered Don, 
“but, you see, Claude and Margie are pretty sore 
over our refusal to go after I had said I thought we 


160 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


could. Of course that part of the deal was not my 
fault nor Jessica’s; but if we had not been so sure we 
could go, they would not have had to misrepresent 
matters in order to get to go.” 

“As if it were best to do that in any case!” ex¬ 
claimed Mrs. Cameron. “Don’t lay any of the 
blame for this unhappy affair at your door or Jes¬ 
sica’s, son,” she added, decidedly, as she turned to¬ 
ward the door. “I am more than thankful that you 
both accepted your father’s decision, however unwill¬ 
ingly, and were safe and happy at home with us.” 

“I am not very sorry, myself,” murmured Don, 
on his way to the kitchen, while his mother went 
up the stairs to seek Jessica, whom she found, a 
wilted heap on the bed, spent with conflicting 
emotions. At sight of her mother’s kind face her 
grief broke forth afresh! 

Mrs. Cameron tenderly gathered the tumbled 
head to her breast, and wisely allowed time for the 
sobs to subside. Her first words still further checked 
Jessica’s emotion. “Don has told me what happened 
to the young people last night, Jessica,” she said 
gently. “But I fail to see why my girlie should take 
someone else’s misdoing so much to heart. Of 
course it is right to be sorry for them all, even poor 
Frank; but the four are only reaping the fruit of 
their own wrongdoing.” 

“Marjorie said it was all Don’s fault and mine,” 


SHADOWS 


161 


sobbed Jessica. “She sent a note to me this morn¬ 
ing, and said she did not want me for a chum any 
more. She said if we had gone, as Don promised, 
it would never have happened, and that she is dis¬ 
graced forever. They even had her picture, and 
Helen’s, in one of the morning papers!” 

“That is nothing so dreadful that it will not be 
forgotten as soon as the next newspaper sensation 
comes along,” consoled her mother. “Listen, Jes¬ 
sica, dear. If Claude and Margie had accepted 
their parents’ verdict, as you and Don did yours, 
they would have nothing to regret this morning. 
The lesson is bitter, but it will be a good one for 
Margie, for she well knows that Frank’s companion¬ 
ship is not desirable for her. You need not fear 
losing her friendship. If you could keep it only 
at the expense of obedience to truth and to your 
own parents, she would not be a friend worth having 
at the price. Don tells me that poor Claude had a 
hard time to make the best of a bad situation; so 
doubtless he, too, has learned a lesson.” 

Drawing the young girl closer, and kissing her 
tenderly, Mrs. Cameron concluded, “Put it out of 
your mind for the present, dear, and it will all come 
right in the end. You are in no way to blame for 
their ‘disgrace,’ as Marjorie calls it, and mamma 
wishes you to dry your eyes now, and come down 
to your luncheon.” 


162 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“I won’t cry any more, mamma, if you just won’t 
make me come downstairs,” pleaded Jessica. “I 
couldn’t eat a bite, anyway, and I don’t want to see 
anybody but you.” 

“Very well,” conceded her mother. “Nora may 
bring you up something, and Don will call you in 
time to go back to school.” 

“What’s this I hear about some of our high school 
people being taken up and fined in Niles last night, 
for being drunk and disorderly?” inquired Mr. 
Cameron, of nobody in particular, as he shook out 
his napkin. 

All eyes were turned in Don’s direction. He 
flushed slightly, but responded lightly, “It was none 
of the Cameron tribe, thank fortune. I guess some¬ 
body’s dad has a vote of thanks coming, though I 
confess I didn’t see it in that light at this identical 
hour yesterday.” 

Mr. Cameron looked very much pleased at Don’s 
reply, though it lacked the information he sought. 
“What about it, laddie?” he persisted. “I heard it 
mentioned several times this morning, but could 
not get particulars, somehow.” 

Donald went into brief details, and his father’s 
brow darkened. “That young King is going too 
fast a gait lately, and if he does not call a speedy 
halt, he will land himself behind the bars where 
not even his father’s money and influence will help 


SHADOWS 


163 


him.” This was severe comment for Mr. Cameron, 
as Don realized. 

“That’s what he’s found out already, from the 
copper that ran him in last night for speeding,” 
replied Don. 

“Where is Jessica?” next inquired Mr. Cameron, 
noting, for the first time, the vacant seat at his 
side. 

“She is pretty well worked up over this affair, 
and asked not to be required to come down,” re¬ 
sponded mamma. “Nora will take her up a little 
luncheon presently.” 

“Better send mother,” suggested Jessica’s father, 
with a mischievous glance in her direction. “She 
can pour oil on troubled waters faster than anyone 
I know, not excepting yourself.” 

So, presently, acting on her son’s suggestion, 
grandmother slipped softly into Jessica’s room with 
Nora’s daintily filled tray. The spell of her pres¬ 
ence partially lifted the burden of Jessica’s fancied 
griefs, and twenty minutes later, subdued but 
fairly presentable, she joined her brother at the 
hall door, and departed schoolward. 

The unfortunate occurrences of the previous 
evening were not discussed at the Cameron dinner- 
table that evening, all other topics being over¬ 
shadowed by plans being laid by grandmother for 
a trip to the autumn woods the following Saturday 


164 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


morning. Jessica took small part in the discussion, 
but her spirits unconsciously lightened,- and she 
went to the evening practice of her music without 
demur. 

Outside the music room Don was whistling cheer¬ 
fully as he put the final touches to the lawn pre¬ 
paratory to putting the lawn-mower away for the 
winter. Harry, content as always with his big 
brother for a companion, was making heroic efforts 
to rake the dry grass as fast as Donald cut it. He 
gave up the effort in a short time, however, and he 
and Don engaged in a merry war with the armfuls 
of dry grass for ammunition. 

Her lesson finished, Jessica leaned from the win¬ 
dow to watch the mimic battle. “What are you 
going to do this evening, Don?” she asked, finally. 
“Anything special?” 

“Going over to Claude’s to work up our joint 
discussion for next Friday’s debate,” her brother 
replied. 

Jessica’s eyes widened. “Well, I must say you 
have your nerve!” she exclaimed. “Do you sup¬ 
pose he will care to see you?” 

Donald grinned. “Don’t know. Nothing like 
finding out. We can’t both be on the same side of a 
debate without consulting each other, that’s cer¬ 
tain. He called me after school and told me it was 
my turn to ‘come across,’ so I’m going, and I’ll run 


SHADOWS 


165 


the risk of finding the latchstring out. Don’t you 
want to go along?” 

“Not I,” returned Jessica, decidedly, though 
somewhat sadly. “I haven’t been invited yet to 
‘come across,’ and from what I heard today it will 
probably be some time before I am.” 

“Just go anyway,” suggested her brother. “Let 
on you haven’t heard anything, and if Margie’s 
been in bed all day she will be ready to be amused 
by your account of the play last night. She runs to 
theatricals, and would have enjoyed that play im¬ 
mensely. I don’t suppose she could give you a very 
entertaining account of her trip,” with a grin, “but 
it wouldn’t hurt you to play Good Samaritan and 
cheer her up a little.” 

Jessica shook her head sorrowfully. “I can’t, 
Don. I am sure you would not care to go either, 
if you had heard the message she sent me this morn¬ 
ing. I shall not tell you what it was, but it nearly 
broke my heart!” 

Harry was turning somersaults on the pile of 
half-dried grass, and Don strolled nearer the window 
and glanced within, before replying. Then he said, 
“Now, look here, sis, you girls are sillier than I 
take you to be, if you don’t wipe this business right 
off the slate and forget all about it. Claude and I 
have had it all out—didn’t take ten minutes, either— 
and he don’t blame either of us a bit. Catch boys 


166 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


holding a grudge, and making themselves miserable 
for weeks, over a little thing like that!” 

“It is not a little thing,” rejoined Jessica, spirit¬ 
edly. “Such things often affect a person’s whole 
life!” 

“Well, your part and mine was a very small part 
of it, anyway, thanks to papa,” persisted Don, “and 
it won’t do a bit of good for you and Margie to go 
on an endless warpath over it. Mamma told me, 
since supper, that she cannot go out with us in the 
car next Saturday morning, but that she will come 
out on the carline after luncheon. So Margie and 
Claude might go with us as well as not, if you two 
girls bury your imaginary hatchet before that time.” 

Jessica secretly welcomed this opportunity of rec¬ 
onciliation with her chum, but she only replied 
demurely, “Perhaps with such an inducement as a 
trip to the country for chestnuts, with you for chauf¬ 
feur, she might forget her fancied injuries. I am 
certain I have no grievance I could not overcome by 
Saturday. You might invite them, if you are going 
over tonight, and see what they say.” 

“I thought I would,” answered Don, bluntly, 
“that is, if you didn’t object.” 

“What did mamma think about it?” 

“She suggested the plan, and grandmother sec¬ 
onded it; so neither one is likely to kick. Mamma 
is going over to see Margie tomorrow, if—” 


SHADOWS 


167 


“If what?” queried his sister, as Don suddenly- 
stopped. 

“If she has time,” he finished. “I must be off 
now, but I will be back early, and let you know what 
they say about going.” 

Jessica went to grandmother’s room. The evening 
lessons were daily growing easier and more pleasur¬ 
able. Those for the next day having been carefully 
gone over, grandmother, who had declined to discuss 
Jessica’s troubles at the noon hour, pointed to the 
low rocker with the invitation, “Now, let’s talk things 
over,” and Jessica gladly availed herself of the oppor¬ 
tunity. Curling herself cosily at grandmother’s side, 
she laid her brown head against an inviting knee, and 
as she talked played absently with the bright folds 
of the now nearly completed afghan. 

“I don’t see how I can help feeling badly about 
it, gramsie,” she began, sadly. “It is the very first 
time Margie and I have had the least bit of hard 
feelings toward each other since she came to Cleve¬ 
land; except once, and that wasn’t much. And 
now she has sent me word that she doesn’t want me 
for a chum any more. You see, such terrible things 
happened to her, and she feels that Don and I are 
partly to blame. Mamma says we are not in the 
least, for how could we go, when papa said we could 
not?” 

“Mamma is quite right, dear,” returned grand- 


168 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


mother, taking the restless fingers in her own for a 
moment. “You will find that Marjorie will view the 
matter in a more sensible light when she has gotten 
over the mortification of it all. Tell me about it.” 

“Why, don’t you know?” queried astonished 
Jessica. “Didn’t Don tell you all about it at 
luncheon?” 

“Something of it, but I want to hear your side 
of the story.” 

“Well, you see, Frank had taken too much wine 
at supper, so he said afterward—for they have it at 
home all the time, and his folks were not there to 
limit him. They had gone to Columbus, so he took 
the car without their knowing about it. Claude and 
Margie went over to their house to start, so Mrs. 
Sheldon wouldn’t know but that they’d gone with 
us. Frank acted silly all the way over, and said 
some dreadfully improper things to Margie, till 
Claude made him sit by Helen, and ran the car him¬ 
self. When they got to the garage in Niles, Claude 
says that a man that knew Frank there gave him 
another drink, and it was whisky, and finished him 
for having any sense at all! He made up his mind 
right away that he wasn’t going to any tame debate. 
As Claude thought they could get him away from 
town easier, and the folks from here wouldn’t know 
what condition he was in, they agreed to go to a 
‘movie,’ and then go home. He was so noisy and 


SHADOWS 


169 


impolite to some strange girls there that the man¬ 
ager threatened to have him arrested if he didn’t 
leave, so they all went and got the car and started 
for home. Frank insisted on driving—I don’t see 
whatever made Claude let him—and before they 
got out of town he was going so fast that a police¬ 
man took him up for speeding. Then, too,” she 
added, in an awe-struck tone, “he had a revolver; 
and of course the cop wouldn’t let him carry that 
around, and him drunk, too! 

“So Claude had to leave the girls at a hotel, and 
go with Frank to police headquarters, and it was a 
long time before they could get the right persons to 
fix up his fine so he wouldn’t have to go to jail. 
And all that time, gramsie, poor Helen and Margie 
had to sit there in the hotel parlor in their evening 
dresses. Everybody walked in and out and looked 
at them as though they were the ones that had been 
'drunk and disorderly,’ as they said about Frank. 
Claude couldn’t get anyone Frank knew at home 
to arrange for his fine over the ’phone; so he finally 
gave his own father’s check for it, and the judge 
took it, after Claude had signed it, and let them 
go. The policeman that arrested Frank said that 
it was getting too common for young swells from 
Cleveland to run out there in their cars evenings, 
and 'paint Niles red,’ and it had to be stopped; and 
the only way to stop it was to arrest everybody who 


170 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


violated the city laws. It seems awful hard, gramsie, 
that two nice girls should be exposed to such insults 
and rudeness, just because a young man ran his 
car a little too fast, or was noisy at a ten-cent show!” 

Mrs. Keith was silent for a moment. Then she 
answered, “You remember the sorrowful fate of 
‘Old Dog Tray/ Jessica. Nothing was proved 
against him, or even charged, except the one fact 
that he was in bad company; yet he was punished 
with the others. Instead of sympathizing so 
deeply with these unfortunate young people, I hope 
you will come to see the matter as Donald does, and 
try to persuade them to avoid such mistakes in 
future. Take grandmother’s advice, girlie, and 
forget this sad affair as soon as possible. At the 
same time, do your best to influence your chums to 
find saner and more enjoyable amusements. A 
bright, sensible lot of young folks, such as you have 
in your ‘Avenue Gang/ as you call it, ought to be 
the nicest, happiest set in Cleveland. It seems to 
me that if all the rest do their part, one young fellow 
like Frank King couldn’t find it so easy to go to the 
bad.” 

“He’s been pretty wild for some time, Don says,” 
said Jessica, gravely. “But we all overlooked his 
fast ways because he is Helen’s brother, and she is 
so nice. Margie is awfully stuck on him though, 
gramsie,” she added, with a sigh. “She thinks it is 


SHADOWS 


171 


cute of him to be just a little ‘gay/ as she calls it, 
and she goes with him whenever she gets a chance.” 

“You don’t mean to say that her father and mother 
allow her to go out alone with him?” laying down her 
knitting in surprise. 

“Well, they don’t do it exactly that way,” ex¬ 
plained Jessica. “You see the girls go out together 
to a picture show, or for a walk in a park. The boys 
are ‘on/ and follow around, and they meet some¬ 
where and maybe pair off, and each couple goes 
where it pleases for ‘treats.’ They have some place 
fixed up where they all meet later, and then go 
home together. Papa does not allow Don and me 
to go out with the bunch that way after night, but 
Margie has told me how they work it. After a 
moment, she added, as though her revelations had 
not been quite complete, “Two or three of the girls 
have their regular steadies, fellows, you know, who 
take them out once or twice a week, besides coming 
to see them Sunday nights.” 

Mrs. Keith’s hands paused in their flitting among 
the bright-colored w T ools on her lap, and her sweet, 
kind eyes had a very serious look, as she said, How 
much better it would be for them all, Jessica, if 
they would meet at each others homes when they 
wish to be together, and amuse themselves with 
music, and games, and other home entertainment, 
such as would really fit them for first-class society 


172 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


later. Such pleasures would leave no sting behind, 
as diversions like that of last night must certainly 
do. It would also make unnecessary the wholesale 
deception of their fathers and mothers, which hap¬ 
pens when they meet their friends without their 
parents’ knowledge or permission.” 

“Some of the mothers and fathers don’t seem to 
care very much,” commented Jessica. “Most of 
our crowd think papa and mamma are entirely too 
strict for the way everybody does nowadays. I 
am so glad, now, that papa did not let Don and me 
go to Niles last night, that I cannot tell it in words.” 

“Then I may infer that you have not yet told 
him so.” Grandmother’s remark sounded like an 
interrogation. 

Jessica looked up quickly. “Do you think he 
would like—do you think I ought to, gramsie?” 
she asked, with a slight diffidence. 

“I am sure it would give him a great deal of pleas¬ 
ure. Donald Teturned thanks’ very bravely and 
manfully at the table today, and you would not 
hesitate to do the same, if you could have seen your 
papa’s face when Don said he ‘guessed somebody’s 
dad had a vote of thanks coming for being so hard¬ 
hearted yesterday,’ or words to that effect.” 

“That sounds exactly like Don,” said Jessica, 
smiling. Then she fell thoughtfully silent, after a 
fashion of her own when deeply stirred, and Mrs. 


SHADOWS 


173 


Keith was not surprised when she slipped from the 
room a few minutes later, with a parting “I’ll be 
back directly, gramsie.” 

Papa was reading the evening paper alone in the 
library, while he waited for mamma to return from 
a call on a sick neighbor. He was somewhat sur¬ 
prised when he felt a pair of soft arms steal around 
his neck with a tousle of fluffy brown hair in his 
eyes as a pair of lips sought his, and heard the voice 
of his one girl-treasure in his ears, saying shyly, 
“Papa, I have come to tell you that I am glad you 
did not let Don and me go to Niles last night, and 
I am sorry that I was pouty and fussy about it. I 
shall always believe that you know best after this.” 

Mr. Cameron drew the slight, girlish figure swiftly 
into his arms. “Jessica, my precious girlie,” he 
answered, and his voice was not quite steady, “if 
papa can save you in the future from the many 
evils which beset the paths of sweet young girls 
like you, until you are safe in a home of your own, 
under a good man’s care, I will cheerfully risk your 
being 'pouty and fussy’ occasionally. What you 
have just told me more than makes up for your 
show of displeasure in being deprived of an outing 
which might have been a bitter memory to you also, 
in some way, as it will always be to Marjorie.” 

They.had a long talk together after that, father 
and the little daughter who had never been so near 


174 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


to each other in heart as they were tonight; and when 
mamma came in Jessica still lay closely folded in 
his fatherly arms. Her cheeks were flushed, there 
was a suspicious moisture in her bright eyes, but 
mamma’s intuition told her that all was well. 

Don returned a few minutes later, and gave an 
odd look at his sister, as she slipped from her father’s 
embrace. “I thought you would be in bed, kid,” 
he said. 

“I was, almost,” she answered, laughing. “I 
waited to see what you found out about the nut¬ 
ting party.” 

“They will both be delighted to go, if Margie is 
well enough by Saturday,” he said shortly. Much 
pleased at the information, though slightly puzzled 
by her brother’s manner, Jessica suddenly remem¬ 
bered her promise to grandmother to be “back 
directly,” and she hurried away up stairs. Donald 
then gravely informed his father and mother that 
Margie was threatened with pneumonia, and that 
the doctor had enjoined absolute quiet, with no 
callers! 

Mr. Cameron laid his arm lightly across his son’s 
shoulders as he rose from his chair. “You were a 
thoughtful laddie to spare your sister that extra 
sheaf of bad news tonight, son,” he said. “She has 
certainly had excitement enough for one day.” 

“So I thought,” replied Don, soberly. “Margie 


SHADOWS 


175 


has been feverish and flighty all afternoon, and has 
often asked for Jessica; so Mrs. Sheldon may send 
for her to go over tomorrow.” 

“I hope it will prove to be nothing so serious,” 
said his mother. “I will walk over with Jessica to¬ 
morrow evening, and Margie can see her if her 
mamma thinks best.”* 

Papa’s loving counsel was supplemented by a 
brief but very satisfactory mother-talk at Jessica’s 
bedside, and she sank to sleep with her mother’s 
hand closely clasped in her own. Don’s report of 
Marjorie’s willingness to make up had reestablished 
her serene content, and, as she had had no hint of 
her chum’s danger, she went to Slumberland feeling 
that all was well. 

Poor Marjorie’s troubles, however, had not thus 
been wisely smoothed away by gentle counsellors. 
While Mr. Sheldon had the welfare of his children 
deeply at heart, he was inclined to be exceedingly 
stern in matters of discipline, when violations were 
brought to his notice. His wife, after hearing 
Claude’s frank confession of their wrong-doing, and 
dreading the effects of her husband’s displeasure 
on Marjorie’s overwrought nerves, smoothed the 
matter over lightly to him the following morning. 
But later in the day, when Mr. Sheldon learned the 
real seriousness of the affair, he insisted on a com¬ 
plete history of the escapade from Claude. He was 


176 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


very much displeased, though he praised Claude’s 
handling of the difficult situation, and endorsed the 
giving of the check for Frank’s fine. He “read the 
riot act,” as Marjorie afterward told Jessica, to both 
Claude and herself, for their disobedience. His 
decision that until further notice neither of them 
was to be allowed to be out for the evening without 
his permission had a disastrous effect on Marjorie, 
aggravating the fever and nervousness which had 
followed the chill caused by exposure, until her 
symptoms were really alarming enough to justify 
the doctor’s decree of rest and quiet. 

At the end of three anxious days at the Sheldon 
home, however, during which only cheerful messages 
were sent to Jessica, the doctor’s skill combined with 
Mrs. Sheldon’s careful nursing had averted the 
threatened attack on the weak lungs, and on that 
evening Mrs. Cameron and Jessica walked over for 
a short visit. The sight of the flushed face and 
sorrowful eyes was almost more than tender¬ 
hearted Jessica could bear. All thought of resent¬ 
ment, or of the welcome she might fail to receive, 
fled from her mind, and she bent over her friend 
with kisses and tender words which were most 
comforting to the sick girl. 

Jessica had been cautioned by her mother to 
avoid unpleasant or exciting topics. She therefore 
treated Marjorie’s illness as a matter of slight dura- 


SHADOWS 


177 


tion, and entertained her with plans for the pro¬ 
posed nutting party, postponed for a week that she 
and Claude might accompany them. 

Only once did Marjorie touch upon the unfor¬ 
tunate excursion which had cost her so much vexa¬ 
tion of mind, body, and spirit, and that was as her 
friend was departing. 

“Say, kid,” she whispered weakly, as Jessica 
bent over her for a parting caress, “I am going to 
put that picture of Helen and me, that I cut out of 
the newspaper, up in my room where I can see it 
every time I am tempted to go ‘on a bum/ as papa 
called our trip to Niles. Don’t you think that is a 
fine idea?” 

Jessica had nodded a smiling acquiescence, and 
had repeated Marjorie’s resolution to her mother, 
as they walked slowly homeward. 

“She did not seem to be vexed with me at all, 
mamma,” she added. 

“I told you she would experience a change of 
heart,” answered her mother. “Her anger was only 
the natural outcome of her vexation with herself, at 
the result of her own wrongdoing; and time for 
reflection has shown her that she has no one to 
blame but herself 1” 


Chapter IX 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 

Saturday found Marjorie convalescent, yet not 
sufficiently recovered to take part in the painting 
lesson, which Jessica generously postponed, and 
taking her fancy work spent the afternoon with her 
chum. All clouds had vanished between them, but 
as she noted what inroads the excitement and ill¬ 
ness of the past week had made on Marjorie’s 
physical condition, Jessica made a mental resolve to 
follow grandmother’s advice, and do her best to 
turn her friend’s attention to saner amusements. 

“What do you say, Margie,” she suggested, as she 
deftly turned the hem in a dresser scarf she was 
preparing to hemstitch for grandmother’s Christ¬ 
mas, “to organizing a Home Amusement Club for 
this winter?” 

“I infer from what papa said a few days ago that 
we will be obliged to do something of the kind, or 
go without amusement,” sighed Marjorie, drearily. 
“But suppose we did? What would we do for 
amusement? Our old games are so childish and 
worn out!” 


178 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


179 


“Learn some new ones. And have an orchestra 
and glee club in connection. Grandmother will help 
us plan it and make it go; she said so. Have it 
every other week, or perhaps every Friday night.” 

“When would we ever get to go to a show, or a 
matinee, then? For I hope papa’s stern decree will 
not be in force all winter.” 

“I am not going any more this winter,” responded 
Jessica, “unless it is something very specially im¬ 
proving, like The Merchant of Venice, you know, and 
Grandma and Don go too. You cannot imagine 
how much better I feel since I do not go out nights, 
and how much easier my lessons are for me.” 

“You are looking frightfully well!” agreed Mar¬ 
jorie, with a half-envious glance at Jessica’s clear 
pink-and-white complexion and bright eyes. “I 
thought perhaps you had been taking medicine—a 
tonic or something.” 

“I have been,” laughed Jessica. “At first it was 
dreadfully distasteful, but now I would not miss my 
morning ‘dose,’ as gramsie calls it, for anything.” 

“What do you take?” queried Marjorie, quite 
interested. “Perhaps mamma would get me some 
like it. I need something on that order, for I feel 
dreadfully bum, and I don’t eat enough to keep a 
mouse alive!” 

“It is not medicine, at all,” confessed Jessica, 
“but it is much easier to take. In the first place, I 


180 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


get up earlier, and don’t flunk my bath half the 
time, as I used to do. I warm it a little now, so I 
don’t dread it any more. Grandmother thinks a 
cold bath in the morning is not good for growing 
girls. Then we both do breathing stunts with the 
window wide open, such simple ones, and just a 
few minutes—but they make you feel so good— 
and then I dress, and play with Harry, and go down 
stairs feeling like I could ‘lick the earth,’ if I had to. 
Papa says if my morning appetite keeps on increas¬ 
ing, my breakfasts will break him up! Ido breathing 
exercises again at bedtime, and I actually measure 
two inches more around my chest than when I 
began.” 

“Well, I feel as though the whole earth had licked 
me overnight, when I come down stairs in the morn¬ 
ing,” sighed Marjorie. “But I hate calisthenics. 
The remedy is nearly as bad as the disease.” 

“Not after you get nicely started,” protested 
Jessica, sagely. “After you get to feeling stronger, 
I will show you how we do it, if you would like me 
to. Grandmother says it is splendid for anyone with 
rather weak lungs.” 

Marjorie consented to “be shown,” though not 
with much warmth, and produced a box of choco¬ 
late creams, Jessica’s favorite confection. But her 
visitor lightly declined the proffered treat. 

“I’ve cut those things out too, Madge,” she made 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


181 


excuse. “That is, between meals. Gramsie says 
it is bad for me to be stuffing my stomach with sweet 
things all the time, and she coaxed me to try going 
without for a whole week. I feel so much better 
since I quit that I am not going to begin again. We 
make homemade fudge and chocolate creams about 
twice a week, and eat them after dinner—gramsie 
is a dandy candy maker—so I don’t miss it between 
times.” 

Marjorie helped herself liberally to the contents 
of the box before she replied, “Well, this is the first 
candy I have seen this week, thanks to a cranky 
doctor, so I am not going without any longer. Better 
have some. Once won’t hurt.” 

Jessica shook her head smilingly, and turned the 
conversation back to the proposed club. 

“Gramsie says—of course this club was her sug¬ 
gestion—that if we keep it simple once a week won’t 
be too often to have it. She said we could take 
turns in entertaining, and that would bring it around 
to each one every ten weeks. Her idea was to have 
a program committee of three appointed every 
meeting-night, to act with the next hostess in ar¬ 
ranging some short entertainment that would not 
require much preparation.” 

Mrs. Sheldon coming in at that moment, the 
subject of the Home Amusement Club was laid 
aside, to be taken up later in the afternoon; but 


182 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


before either one was aware the afternoon had 
slipped away and the chiming of five by the clock 
startled Jessica. 

4 ‘I promised gramsie I would be back by five, to 
go down town with her on some errands!” she ex¬ 
claimed; and just then Mrs. Sheldon appeared, and 
announced that Don and his grandmother were 
waiting outside with the motor. 

4 ‘I just can’t bear to see you go,” groaned Marjorie. 
44 I don’t see why you cannot stay and spend the 
evening. I shall be so lonesome! How shall I ever 
live through it?” 

44 Go to bed early and get lots of sleep,” advised 
her friend. 4 'That will do you good, and make the 
time pass quickly besides.” 

Their errands finished, the trio took a short 
drive on the lake shore, then stopped for Mr. 
Cameron before returning home; but Marjorie’s 
sad face and sorrowful eyes still rose before Jessica’s 
mental vision, and at length she appealed the case 
to grandmother. 

44 Margie has had such a hard week,” she en¬ 
treated. 4 'Let’s send Don over with the car for her 
and Claude. If she is wrapped up well it will not 
hurt her, and you could tell us some more stories, 
like you told us children one night. They are not 
exciting, and would do Margie lots of good. She 
has been crazy to hear you tell a story of your girl- 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


183 


hood days, ever since I told her what a good story¬ 
teller you are.” 

As a result of this appeal, mamma called Mrs. 
Sheldon, and begged the privilege of sending the 
car to bring Claude and Margie to spend a quiet 
evening with their family, promising to send the 
invalid home early. 

Two hours later found the “lonesomeness” 
banished, and Marjorie smiling and “comfy” as 
Jessica could make her in a big easy chair in the 
Cameron library, with Grandmother Keith near by, 
and the rest of the young people settled cosily around 
for a story-telling evening. 

“Begin at the beginning, gramsie,” begged Jes¬ 
sica, “and tell us about the fun you had when you 
were quite small.” 

“Very well,” smiled their entertainer, “though 
I doubt if the simple amusements of my childhood 
days will prove very interesting to your visitors. 
If you begin to look bored, we will put on the 
muffler at once. The very beginning’ would be an 
introduction to our playhouses, of which we had 
two, built into two immense willow trees at the foot 
of the orchard. One of my big brothers had cut 
out all the inside boughs to within about four feet 
from the ground, and had put in some stout flooring, 
making two good-sized rooms, where in the long 
summer days we children played at housekeeping. 


184 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Raymond Graham and I always posed as Mr. and 
Mrs. Graham, and Nell and brother Dannie, who 
occupied the other house, were, of course, Mr. and 
Mrs. Anderson.” 

“I just love make-believes!” said Marjorie, con¬ 
tentedly, snuggling down in the big chair. “What 
did you do there?” 

“Everything. Mother encouraged us to use the 
willow-tree playhouses; first, because the open air 
was good for us; and last, because much of our 
noise was thus kept away from the house and grand¬ 
mother, who lived with us and was easily dis¬ 
turbed by children’s noises. Here we rehearsed 
our declamations for Friday afternoons, and here in 
pleasant weather mother always let us set the 
lunch, which finished our day, when the Graham 
children, our only chums, were our guests. Here we 
took my sister’s large family of homemade dolls 
through the measles, whooping-cough, and various 
other diseases which all children were supposed to 
be obliged to have at some time in their lives; and 
here we read our small stock of story-books over and 
over again, until we knew them, as we say, 'by 
heart.’ ” 

“You must have had vivid imaginations,” laughed 
Don. “Think of imagining a rag doll as having the 
measles!” 

“Speaking of diseases,” went on Mrs. Keith, 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


185 


“reminds me of the time when Dannie and I had the 
mumps. There was no imagination about that. 

“Some cousins of ours came to see us for a three- 
days visit and were taken sick while there. Mother 
at once pronounced their ailment the mumps, and 
Dannie and I were the first victims. The time was 
early spring; mother kept us from school, and also 
notified Mrs. Graham, that she might keep Nell and 
Raymond from the contagion. 

“The message, sent by our hired man, reached 
her in the morning, after the children had gone to 
school; and as they had been sent a different way, 
on an errand, they had not stopped for us. Hearing 
at school that Dannie and I had something in the 
way of an extended parole from school, they came 
in that evening to secure a supply. Mother was not 
in the house at the time, so the two were curled up 
in the bedroom with us for a half hour or more before 
she came in and swuftly sent them homeward. There 
seemed plenty to go around, however, as they both 
came down in due time, with the painful, and in 
Ray’s case, dangerous disease, he being so sick that 
for a time his life was in danger. 

“We did not find it difficult to find our own amuse¬ 
ment when free from the numberless chores which 
the children of those days were expected to share. 
We did not consider it a hardship to hunt the eggs, 
after returning from school, and very few of old 


186 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Biddy’s hiding places escaped our sharp eyes, 
whether she had chosen a hole in the remotest part 
of the immense strawstack, a snug corner under a 
feed box in the barn, or some almost inaccessible 
corner of the big haymow. 

“We thought it great sport to tumble from one 
end to the other of the large cribs of corn, seeking 
the prettiest red, or calico ears, to dress up for dolls, 
as we gathered husks for the bed ticks which were 
often filled with this cheap material. 

“Even the chore we disliked most of all, the sorting 
of the potatoes in the big bins down cellar in early 
spring, which always fell to the hands of us younger 
children, lost much of its unpleasantness; for after 
we were done we took the small, soft potatoes out 
to the big barnyard, and engaged in a battle royal, 
in which our big brothers did not disdain sometimes 
to take part. Armed with a goodly supply of slender 
but stout willow branches, we divided our forces 
into two groups at opposite sides of the long barn¬ 
yard, each side with a bucket of potatoes for am¬ 
munition. We were required to wear our oldest 
clothes, and wash thoroughly in the woodshed 
afterward; but you children that have never had 
the fun of throwing soft potatoes from the end of a 
limber, willow switch, have missed one of the 
pleasures which made life endurable for youngsters 
before the days of basket ball, dancing parties, and 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


187 


matinees. We were almost as expert as David with 
his sling; but the effect of a half-spoiled potato, 
even did it chance to strike a vital part, was not 
dangerous. 

“Another of our pastimes was drowning gophers. 
You children have perhaps never seen a gopher, so 
I will tell you it is a small animal about the size 
of a large rat, and it lives in burrows in the 
ground. 

“Gophers are very destructive to crops, taking 
the corn sometimes as fast as it is planted; every 
spring father put a liberal bounty on every gopher 
scalp which we might bring in.” 

“What with bounties on mice, rats, and gophers, 
you kids ought to have made plenty of spending 
money,” laughed Don. “Did your father always 
pay promptly?” 

“Always. Then mother allowed us two eggs out 
of every dozen; so, you see, it paid to hunt thor¬ 
oughly. 

“Our west pasture had always been a favorite 
home for gophers, perhaps because of the nearness 
of two large cornfields; and in corn-planting season 
we children put in many an hour in the ‘gopher 
patch/ as brother George called the hillside where 
they burrowed. Mr. Ground Squirrel is very cun¬ 
ning, and seldom trusts himself in a hole in the 
ground that has not more than one outlet. 


188 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Armed with long sticks, plenty of buckets, and 
perhaps a hoe or two, we would begin active opera¬ 
tions on Mr. Gopher and his numerous family some 
warm spring morning, while our older brothers were 
planting corn in the near-by fields, and Mr. Squirrel 
was busy, too, getting his share of the yellow 
kernels.” 

“What were the buckets for?” asked Jessica. 

“To carry water for drowning purposes. This 
was the slowest, but most certain mode of capture. 
Leaving one member of the corps of gopher hunters 
on guard, the rest would bring water from the creek 
near by and pour into the burrow until it was flooded. 
If there were little ones, the tiny things would soon 
come to the top of the hole, gasping for breath, and 
were easily killed. But the grown ones were wary, 
and sometimes, when we had carried water until all 
our arms ached, we would see our intended victim 
scurrying across the pasture several rods away, 
having escaped through another entrance. 

“Then there was but one thing to do—hide in 
the thicket near the creek and wait for another 
one to come from the field and slip into a con¬ 
venient burrow; for not all the openings are in¬ 
habited. We have flooded a long runway many 
times until the water appeared at the second en¬ 
trance, only to see, perhaps, the tiny inhabitant 
perched on a distant hillock, eating a grain of corn 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


189 


and keeping a wary eye on us at the same time, as 
though he were rather enjoying the joke.” 

“Did you ever get ’panked, dranma?” asked 
Harry, unexpectedly, from his nest in the rug at 
grandmother’s feet. 

“I cannot remember so far back as the time 
when little folks are usually “panked’ for their 
naughtiness, Harry,” she replied. “But as I was a 
very restless, mischievous little girl, I have no 
doubt I did get many a spanking. I remember well, 
however, the only whipping I ever received.” 

“You do not look as though you ever did any¬ 
thing naughty,” said Jessica, lovingly. “Would it 
hurt you to tell us about it?” 

“Hurt me? Not a bit! I have often wondered 
since, how I came to do such a silly thing. Going 
to the house from the hen house one day, I told 
mother that I had seen a hen carry an egg from a 
lower to an upper box, put it in the nest for a nest- 
egg, and lay another by the side of it; and in proof 
of my assertion I produced a warm egg from my 
apron.” 

The children’s merriment at this impossible tale 
excited the curiosity of their elders in the adjoining 
room. Papa threw the connecting doors wider open, 
remarking, “I am afraid we are missing a chance to 
laugh. Is it funny enough to go around?” 

Don lay back in his chair and fairly roared. “It 


190 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


certainly is,” he cried. “Grandmother has just 
unfolded a tale here that would make a nature- 
faker take a back seat. Whatever did you mean, 
grandmother?” 

Mrs. Keith laughed too, before she replied: “I 
don’t know what I did mean, Don, by spinning such 
a yarn, unless it was just a sudden overflow of my 
make-believe habit. I was the imaginative one of 
my family, and had amused my brothers and sister 
from babyhood by relating to them the most im¬ 
possible tales, under the title of 'Make-Believes/ 
Grandmother Anderson thought this was a terrible 
thing for me to do, and usually scolded mother 
whenever any of my weird tales came to her notice. 

“ 'You’re jest encouragin’ that young one to lie, 
Eunice,’ she would declare; but mother would reply 
that I did not expect anyone to believe my im¬ 
possible tales, and that I was not given to telling 
untruths. But on this occasion I insisted that my 
hen story was the solemn truth, and had actually 
happened, until mother took up the matter with 
me. 

“ 'You don’t really mean that Biddy carried an 
egg in her bill from one nest to another, Dorothy?’ 
she said. 'You must not say such a thing as that.’ 
But the more she protested the more firmly I stuck 
to the line of my narrative, until, finally, she sent 
me to the cherry tree in the back yard for a switch. 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


191 


“I can still see the sad look on her kind face as 
she took the switch from my trembling hand and 
invited me to tell her just the truth about the hen; 
but I must have thought that a lie well stuck to 
is as good as the truth, for I repeated my story in 
every particular and clinched it by offering to show 
her the hen and the nest! 

“The real truth of the matter was that I had 
indeed seen a hen fly from a lower to an upper box 
with her bill covered with the fragments of an egg 
she had just eaten, and that I had waited until she 
had laid a fresh egg in the upper box, which I had 
secured and brought to the house. After mother 
had talked seriously for several minutes about the 
dreadful sin of telling a lie, and had Tubbed it in,’ 
as we say, by the application of the cherry sprout 
to my bare legs, I became repentant, and gave her 
the plain facts, which she readily believed.” 

“Did you ever dress up?” inquired Marjorie. 
“That is the most fun ever, isn’t it, Jessica?” 

“We certainly did,” responded Mrs. Keith, “and 
once, at least, when it was not The most fun ever.’ 
This story, which must be the last one, is another 
instance of naughtiness, and was one of the sor¬ 
riest ‘make-believes’ in which I ever took part. 

“We had a maiden aunt, who came out from New 
York once to make us a visit. She was my father’s 
oldest sister, and before her visit was ended we 


192 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


children came to look on Aunt Priscilla as very like 
the ogress of some of our fairy tales. 

“She was very tall and thin, with the regulation 
corkscrew curls, a piercing eye which seemed to see 
everything we did, and a habit of talking through 
her nose which my clever sister, Ruth, learned to 
imitate to perfection within a week. Her best dress 
was a shiny, rustling black silk, and whenever she 
went out she wore a pair of old-fashioned black lace 
mitts and a black straw bonnet, of an out-of-date 
pattern, with a well-worn ostrich plume dangling 
over one ear. 

“Our merry noise, tolerated by our own folks, 
even grandmother, was very annoying to Aunt 
Priscilla, who would look at us reprovingly when we 
talked or giggled, and often remark that ‘when she 
was a child, she was taught to be seen and not heard; 
but that rule seemed to be out of fashion nowadays.’ 
It is not at all complimentary to me, but I am going 
to tell you of the ‘make-believe’ which brought her 
visit to a sudden end. 

“Aunt Priscilla was in the habit of taking a nap 
every afternoon, and at such times it seemed to us 
children that mother scarcely allowed us to breathe 
lest we disturb her. This nap was usually taken in 
grandmother’s bedroom, on the north side of the 
house, as being farthest removed from the living- 
room and our racket. On this particular day Ruth, 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


193 


Dannie, and I went to the garret, shortly after 
dinner, with a story-book father had bought for 
my ninth birthday. In our haste to read it we girls 
were taking turns reading it aloud, while Dannie 
curled up on the bearskin to listen. 

“We had been quiet so long that mother prob¬ 
ably thought we had gone to some of our outdoor 
haunts and, as grandmother had lain down herself, 
mother sent Aunt Priscilla to the big front room 
upstairs for her accustomed nap. Our garret door 
opened from this room, but we were so absorbed in 
our story that we did not hear her entrance, and as 
our voices did not reach the length of the roomy 
garret, she fell tranquilly to sleep, and, having 
finished our book, we concluded to play ‘make-up’ 
for a while. 

“ ‘You be mamma/ Ruth proposed to me, and 
Dannie be you, and I’ll be Aunt Priscilla. The very 
thing! Diving into some old trunks, we quickly 
ferreted out a costume which I laugh yet to re¬ 
member was a complete counterpart of Aunt 
Priscilla’s own, even to a pair of old, black lace 
mitts, which had been grandmother’s. The dress 
of rusty, black mohair, the black-silk bonnet with 
its long moth-eaten feather, the gray wig which had 
belonged to grandfather—and which was kept be¬ 
cause nothing in our house was ever destroyed 
were all dragged out and put on by my mischievous 


194 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


sister, and we laughed softly, and giggled in whispers, 
until the make-up was completed. Then, secure in 
the thought that Aunt Priscilla was sleeping several 
rooms from our retreat, Dannie and I set our house 
at the farther end of the garret in order, for the 
coming of the gay little masquerader. ,, 

Marjorie’s eyes were dancing. 

“I think I see your finish with Aunt Priscilla,” 
she exclaimed, “though I didn’t know such things 
ever happened outside of story-books.” 

“This was a very serious 'really truly’ for us,” 
Mrs. Keith continued. “I cannot give you the 
conversation just as it occurred, of course, but I 
remember enough of the awfulness of it to give you 
the drift of our gabble. Feeling that it was neces¬ 
sary to have the entire family represented, we as¬ 
signed the big cedar chest to be father, a little hair- 
trunk to be Ruth, a small rag doll dressed in kilts 
to be Dannie, who was impersonating me, and five 
ears of calico corn, in various costumes, to represent 
our five older brothers. 

“Enter the imitation Aunt Priscilla: 

“ ‘How dew ye dew, brother William?’ And 
we guessed afterward, that Ruth’s high-pitched, 
nasal twang was our immediate undoing. T s’pose 
this is sister-in-law Eunice, though yew don’t look 
quite so peart as when yew was first married.’ 

“ ‘Take this easy chair, Priscilla,’ I now say, in- 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


195 


vitingly, and after a moment’s sharp inspection of 
the offered chair for dust, Ruth sinks into it and 
goes on: ‘It makes a woman look old to have such 
a big family as yew and William have got. I didn’t 
reelly want to come way out here to Illynoise jest 
to see yew, not knowin’ any of the children, but I 
felt if I ever saw brother William again I’d have to 
come. Men are so cold-blooded to their near rela¬ 
tions, once they get away from ’em. 

“ ‘Air these your three youngest? I can’t say 
as they favor yew much, William, look more like 
Eunice—kind o’ thin and washed out like.’ 

“She has been taking us all in with her sharp eyes, 
and taking off her bonnet and gloves as she talked, 
and now Dannie asks a question which it is safe to 
say we would neither of us have dared ask the real 
Aunt Priscilla. 

“ ‘Are them real curls, Aunt Priscilla? Are you 
going to stay at our house long, and have you brought 
me and Dannie and Ruth anything?’ 

“ ‘Dear me, what an inquisitive child! But I 
don’t suppose yew can help it, sister-in-law. Some 
children is so hard to teach manners. 

“‘What a lot of big boys yew have got!’ in¬ 
specting the row of corn-humans critically. ‘It 
must be quite a chore to find feed and clothes for 
them all. I didn’t know yew had so many/ 

“‘This is our oldest boy, George,’ I explain, ‘and 


196 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


he and his brother, Charles have just come back 
from the army/ I indicate two corn mannikins, in 
government blue. 'And these are Marvin, and 
Cyrus, and William junior. They are all a great help 
to their father on the farm/ 

"‘Yew seem to be pretty well fixed, brother 
William, for a man with such a large family. How 
big a farm have yew got?' 

"I reply for the cedar chest, that I have over two 
hundred acres; but it is not enough for the boys, 
and I am thinking of moving to Kansas, where the 
boys will have a better chance to get land for 
themselves. 

‘“Mercy me! what dew yew want to go way out 
into that wilderness for? Sister-in-law, I’d like to 
go somewhere and wash my face, if yew don’t 
care. I got so jolted and shook up on that dusty, 
noisy train, that I am mighty near worn out. I 
hain’t had a wink of sleep sence I started; for 
when I went to get into one of them narrow beds, 
that cost so much for jest one night, there was a 
man sleepin’ in the one next to me, with only some 
thin curtains between. I tried to get my money back, 
but I couldn’t; so I jest set up all the way out here!’ 

“How much longer this interesting ‘make-believe’ 
would have gone on, it is hard to tell; for Dannie 
and I were being highly entertained by the many 
remarks of Aunt Priscilla which our wide-awake 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


197 


sister had stored up, and seemed so able to repro¬ 
duce at will. But a queer sound at the garret door 
startled us, and, to our horror, doubled up in the 
low doorway was Aunt Priscilla herself, peering at 
us with wrath in her very attitude. 

“‘You good-for-nothing little imps!’ she cried, in 
a rage, ‘come out of there this very minnit! I’ll 
jest take yew down to your father, and tell him what 
yew been sayin’. Yer a set of impident young hus¬ 
sies, and ort to be thrashed.’ 

“In her anger she stopped for breath, and Ruth, 
forgetting her dress, and wishing to prevent father’s 
knowledge of our latest escapade, went bravely 
forward. 

“ ‘We were only making believe, Aunt Priscilla,’ 
she said, very humbly. ‘If you will forgive us, and 
not tell father, we will never do it again.’ 

“She had gone so near the garret door, with her 
earnest apology, that Aunt Priscilla’s near-sighted 
eyes took in her make-up; and after that, she might 
as well have begged the little hair trunk for mercy; 
for, though irresistibly funny, her disguise was so 
true to life that Aunt Priscilla did not need to take 
two looks, as we say, to recognize herself. 

“‘I’ll teach yew to make fun of your father’s 
only sister, that’s spanked him many and many a 
time,’ she raged. ‘I’ll pack up my things and go 
home this very day, if he don’t give every one of 


198 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


yew a good lickin’. Yew haint had any bringin’ 
up, and I’ll tell yer mother so this very minnit!’ 

“She straightened up at the garret door, and 
flounced away downstairs in her wrath, and Ruth 
briskly took off her fatal disguise, while Dannie sat, 
a speechless, frightened heap, on the bearskin, and 
I sank into an old rocking-chair and laughed and 
cried by turns! 

“After a while we crept to the stairway, where 
we could hear mother’s sorrowful tones breaking in, 
occasionally, on Aunt Priscilla’s angry ones, as 
that. injured lady gave us children ‘all that was 
coming to us,’ as we say nowadays. Recalling the 
affair afterward, we knew that the only regret we 
had at the time was that we had troubled our 
mother’s tender heart, that could never bear to give 
pain to anyone. 

“Father had gone to Mount Carroll, some ten 
miles away, to sit on the jury, and we were truly 
thankful. Before his return Aunt Priscilla’s anger 
had had time to subside, though she made the most 
of our childish frolic, and daily rehearsed to mother 
the insults she had received at the hands of her for¬ 
ward children. 

“Mother had the habit of talking over with us at 
night the important happenings of the day; and it 
was a very subdued trio that awaited her coming 
that night. Sitting on a low chair between Dannie’s 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


199 


trundle-bed and the big four-poster where Ruth 
and I were cuddled, she went back to the days of 
father’s childhood and told us of the time when 
he, with three brothers and one sister, had been 
deprived of father and mother both in the short 
space of three months; and how Aunt Priscilla, the 
oldest one of the family, with the help of an uncle 
who had a large family of his own, had kept the 
flock together until they could become self-sustain¬ 
ing. She told us that Aunt Priscilla had worked in 
the fields in the summer, and taught school in the 
cold, New England winters, until the last child 
had left the old homestead and gone out into the 
world well fitted by her stern but useful training for 
their own support. 

“Though we were only children, we could see in 
mother’s skilful handling of the story something of 
the hard life, and the sacrifices of this older sister, 
and mother’s bedtime talk had the effect of making 
us heartily ashamed of ourselves. 

“Two days later, and before father’s return, Ruth 
and I bought a pretty silver thimble, in a sandal¬ 
wood case, and presented it to Aunt Priscilla; and, 
much to our relief, she accepted it with the sole 
remark that she ‘s’posed children would be children!’ 
She had intended staying until fall; but she left us 
the day after father returned, without telling him 
the reason for her change of mind.” 


200 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Didn’t you wuv your Aunt Silla, dranma?” 
asked Harry, who, with the others, had been an 
absorbed listener to this tale of childish naughtiness. 

Mrs. Keith looked lovingly down at the small 
questioner. 

“We ought to have loved her a great deal, Harry, 
because she had been so good to our papa; but we 
would have found it much easier to love her if she 
had been kind and pleasant, instead of being always 
ready to find fault with us. We were a very thought¬ 
less set of little folks in those days, and did not think 
of much but having our own good times.” 

Nora’s entrance with a tray containing cups of 
hot chocolate, and a plate of thin, brown-bread 
sandwiches, brought mamma and papa Cameron 
from the adjoining room to share the irregular 
spread, and set the tongues of the small company 
to moving in a wave of merry conversation. 

“I think, Jessica,” remarked Marjorie, as she 
accepted the third sandwich, “that we are having 
the first meeting of the Home Amusement Club, 
which we started in our minds this afternoon. If we 
could be certain of as fine entertainment every 
meeting-night as we have had tonight, I am sure it 
would be a first-class success.” 

“You’ll have to finish the details at some future 
time, Marge,” put in Claude, looking at his watch 
and rising. “I promised mother to have you home 


THE HOME AMUSEMENT CLUB 


201 


by ten, and if you linger much longer, I shall be 
guilty of breaking my promise, or Don will be 
obliged to exceed the speed limit. ,, 

“Don’t let that happen, in any case,” returned 
Marjorie, meaningly. “I am all ready, Claude, but 
I don’t see where the evening has gone.” 

“Suppose we include the ‘Avenue Gang’ in our 
nutting-party next Saturday,” suggested Mrs. 
Keith, “and finish the plans for the Home Amuse¬ 
ment Club in a committee of the whole.” 

The idea met with instant approval, and a dis¬ 
cussion of the proposed picnic became so prolonged 
that Claude took forcible possession of his sister 
at last, and conveyed her bodily to the waiting motor. 

The two blocks between the two houses were 
swiftly covered, and after Marjorie had made her 
thanks and adieux to Donald she turned to her 
brother. 

“This has sure been a perfect evening,” she re¬ 
marked, “and tied at each end to a ‘joy-ride’ as 
was a ‘joy-ride.’ I believe I will take Jessica’s 
advice, brother mine, cut out ‘sassiety frills’ for the 
winter, and go in for the simple life.” 

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” returned Claude, 
“at least until you can draw a long breath easily 
again. We’ll have to get in on the ground-floor, 
then, as charter members of the Home Amusement 
Club.” 


Chapter X 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 

“There is nothing more enjoyable on a chilly 
autumn night than an open grate and a bright wood 
fire,” remarked Mr. Cameron, as he toasted his 
feet on one side of the cheerful library blaze, while 
Jessica toasted her cheeks and a handful of chest¬ 
nuts for Harry at the opposite side of the fender. 
“Are you getting in practice for Halloween, Jessica?” 
he added, noting her occupation. 

She nodded a smiling acquiescence, as she raked 
out a couple of brown beauties, and Don looked 
up from a book of old Grecian architecture. 

“A fellow will have to be on his job to have any 
fun this Halloween,” he said, ruefully. “I under¬ 
stand they have doubled the police force for Friday 
night, and the city council has ruled that all minors 
must be off the streets by ten that night, unless 
accompanied by their parents. Would you mind 
chaperoning a bunch of us fellows around a while, 
Friday night, dad?” he asked, mischievously. 

“I am afraid I must plead a prior engagement!” 
laughed his father. 


202 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


203 


“It is going to be hard lines for us,” went on 
Donald, in an aggrieved voice. Some of the officers 
will be in plain clothes, and it will be hard to tell 
‘who is who.’ We might as well not have any 
Halloween at all I” 

“It could be spared from the calendar,” re¬ 
sponded his father, dryly. “The custom of observ¬ 
ing it began, I believe, with harmless fireside diver¬ 
sions such as Jessica is just indulging in, and the 
working of various devices for the foretelling of one's 
matrimonial future. It would not have been a bad 
idea if it had ended there.” 

“But, papa,” put in Jessica, “when everybody is 
expecting it, what harm is there in getting out and 
playing a few harmless tricks on people you know? 
Such as tossing corn against their windows, putting 
up tick-tacks, or ringing doorbells? We all know, 
when we go to the door on Halloween night, there 
will be nobody there.” 

“Unless what you take to be a false alarm of 
Halloweeners proves to be a real caller,” remarked 
Mrs. Keith, “as was the case of the lady who had 
her doorbell rung repeatedly by the small boy in 
the next house, and who decided to give the offender 
a lesson. Stationing herself just inside the door, 
with a pitcher of ice-water, she opened the door 
suddenly, at the next ring, and with an energetic 
‘take that, you young imp!’ she deluged a lady 


204 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


friend, much to her own dismay and the detriment 
of a fine, visiting costume. ,, 

The children laughed in chorus. 

“It is the failure to stop short of 'wilful and 
malicious mischief’ that makes these strict regula¬ 
tions necessary,” said Mrs. Cameron. “Sick people 
are often made worse by the noise of tin horns and 
popguns, property is sometimes injured beyond 
repair, and permission to ignore property rights 
for even one evening makes it easier to violate law 
afterward.” 

“It seems to me that youngsters like you and Don, 
Jessica,” said grandmother, “could have a wonder¬ 
fully good time under the shadow of your own 
'vine and fig tree’ on Halloween night. Do you 
never have Halloween home parties?” 

“Sometimes,” Jessica answered. “Helen King 
had a masquerade, last Halloween, and it was sure 
some swell affair! She had engraved invitations, 
five courses for supper, dancing with a hired orches¬ 
tra, and favors for every dance. But it was a lot 
of trouble to get up our costumes, and—” 

“And,” interrupted Donald, “it was all so very 
swell and stylish that we didn’t have as much fun, 
real fun, as if—” 

“As if you had been out in some alley, tying a 
string across it to trip up some other Halloween 
nighthawk, or putting somebody’s^porchrocker on 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


205 


the top of a telephone pole,” finished Mr. Cameron, 
laughing. 

“That’s the size of it,” agreed Don. “The 
trouble is,” he added, sagely, “some of the boys 
don’t know where to draw the line for what the cops 
call ‘safe and sane amusement.’ Before we left 
Helen’s last year—and it was nearly morning— 
some of the boys proposed to abduct our high-school 
principal, and carry him so far out in the country 
that he could not get back for school next day. 
We were in masquerade dress, so he would not 
have known us.” 

“Did you carry out him and your plan success¬ 
fully?” inquired grandmother. 

“They didn’t even attempt it. Several of the 
bunch were ‘ferninst’ it, and the ones that favored 
it were afraid the scheme would be given away. 
Mr. Bryant, the ‘Prof,’ is a jolly fellow, and might 
have taken it as a joke, but he is a hard worker, 
and not overly strong. Then, too, his wife had been 
sick, and a prank like that might have made her 
worse.” 

“Frank King was awfully fussy at Don for op¬ 
posing the scheme,” added Jessica. “Frank was 
to furnish the motor, and they were to take the 
‘Prof’ out to the Country Club. The clubhouse 
isn’t open after October first, but there is a care¬ 
taker who would have taken him in till morning, 


206 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


when he could have sent for some one to take him 
home, or have walked the ten miles back.” 

“That would have been almost as good a joke as 
your class at the University played on your liter¬ 
ature teacher one year, Dick,” said Mrs. Keith. 
“Do you remember it?” 

“Do tell us about it, grandmother,” demanded 
Don and Jessica in the same breath, scenting a 
recital that would, perhaps, involve their father 
in a Halloween misdemeanor. Donald added, 
“I’ll bet papa wasn’t always as tame and proper 
at Halloween time as he would like us to be!” 

“There were about twenty-five young people in 
the class,” replied Mrs. Keith. “They let the pro¬ 
fessor’s wife and the janitor into the secret, then 
got a drygoods box as large as would go through 
the door, and put it on the classroom platform. 
They addressed it in red paint to Professor Crane, 
and labeled it with this couplet: 

‘Within this box a treasure lies. 

Search, and appropriate the prize/ 

They signed it, ‘With the compliments of the lit¬ 
erature class.’ Then they crammed it to the limit 
with old papers.” 

“Aha, papa!” jeered Donald. 

“You too, Brutus!” echoed papa, and grandmother 
concluded calmly, “But in the very bottom they 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


207 


had put a set of fine reference books, which Profes¬ 
sor Crane had wished for for some time, but had not 
felt he could afford. Papa can tell you what hap¬ 
pened afterward better than I can.” 

“He did not seem to notice the box until the class 
work was completed,” said Mr. Cameron, “and then 
he remarked that he had been invited to open the 
box on this suspicious or cmspicious occasion, and 
he would therefore dig for buried treasure. After 
he had laid out the last book, he walked to the edge 
of the platform and declared, in his most dignified 
manner, that he could not overlook such an in¬ 
fraction of rules as that of which the class had been 
guilty, and that, under pain of possible expulsion, 
we were to report at his house at eight-thirty that 
evening, when a suitable punishment would be 
meted out to us. We certainly endured the punish¬ 
ment, which was an unlimited supply of hot biscuits 
and maple syrup, washed down by Mrs. 'Prof’s’ 
excellent coffee.” 

Don was quite disappointed at the sequel of the 
joke on the professor. “That sort of thing would 
be more appropriate for April first,” he commented. 
“But I would like to go to an old-fashioned Hal¬ 
loween party such as grown-ups are always bragging 
about, just to see if there is anything in it.” 

“Don should have attended the one given by the 
young people staying at our house the first year 



208 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


we were in Lawrence,” remarked Mrs. Keith. 
“It was a particularly bright bunch of girls that 
arranged it, and it certainly contained a number of 
thrills; in fact, there was something doing all the 
time. Do you remember it, Dick?” 

“I should say! That was the night the boys were 
Tarred out’; but we Taught on/ and got into the 
game good and plenty. When the girls set their 
‘dumb supper/ they did not guess that Jim Graham 
was quietly reposing in a hammock that was slung 
closely up under the big, extension table; and his 
version of the excitement he created, when he ap¬ 
peared in ghostly array at the appointed moment 
and slipped into the vacant chair by Grace Merton, 
was very satisfactory to us boys outside. I have 
always believed, though, that he exaggerated the 
facts.” 

“From the way the girls pitched him out of doors 
when they discovered his identity, it was a wonder 
he lived to tell any tale at all!” laughed Mrs. Keith. 
“But Grace did really faint; and Maggie Dickerson 
came near doing the same thing when she walked 
down cellar backward, and was caught in Frank 
Howard’s arms and kissed, at the foot of the stairs. 
When he helped her upstairs, it was hard to tell 
which was whiter of the two.” 

“I think some of those things were rather scary 
to do!” declared Jessica. “You would never catch 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 209 

me going down cellar backward, even in the brightest 
daylight.” 

“That is because, like most girls nowadays, you 
are troubled with 'nerves/ instead of being provided 
with 'nerve/ ” jested Don. 

“But the best of all the fun that night,” said Mrs. 
Cameron, “was the ghost that pursued Mabel 
Herron and me, when we went to the churchyard 
for the traditional hemp-sowing. The boys, un¬ 
known to us, had dressed Dr. McPherson's big 
dog in ghostly array. As Mabel was the doctor’s 
niece, the dog followed her everywhere, and it 
was an easy matter to persuade him to play ghost, 
the more so as the boys had fastened a small piece 
of fresh beef to her dress skirt. He 'appeared’ to 
us first at the corner of the church—one of the 
boys had been holding him in the vestibule—and, 
as we both thought it was a man on all fours, the 
sowing process was unduly hurried, and we re¬ 
treated homeward in haste. Mabel fairly fell in 
at the door, and nothing in the world would have 
tempted either one of us to venture abroad again 
that night!” 

“That was the night when Florence Everleigh 
went to the cabbage patch near the barn to bring 
in a cabbage root,” said grandmother, “and your 
papa, Jessica, hiding behind a near-by haystack, 
just as she gathered her sample, rose up and gave 


210 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


a groan that Flo declared could have been given 
by nothing human!” 

Mr. Cameron laughed heartily. “I had almost 
forgotten about that!” he said. “I think she only 
took three steps to reach the kitchen door! My 
groans were feeble compared with her screams, 
which were heard in the house.” 

“She was scarcely more frightened than Lida 
Watson,” supplemented Mrs. Cameron, “when she 
went to a dark closet with a lighted candle in her 
hand, to see her future husband’s face in a mirror 
placed there for that purpose. One of the girls 
had secured a skull from a classroom, and I, hidden 
behind a long, dark cloak hanging in the closet, 
manipulated said skull for Lida’s benefit. That 
closet held her only till she could get out of it, 
and I shall never forget how she slammed the door 
behind her!” 

The children enjoyed these reminiscences of their 
elders very much, and the fact was noted by their 
grandmother. 

“Madge,” she said, as the two sat over the mend¬ 
ing basket next morning after the children had 
departed for school, “why don’t you let Jessica and 
Don give an old-fashioned Halloween party next 
Friday night? It would eliminate any desire they 
might have to be out skylarking around, and might 
prove enough of a novelty to help some of the 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


211 


other avenue roustabouts curb their imps of mis¬ 
chief.” 

“Do you know, mother, I was just wishing we 
might do that,” replied Mrs. Cameron. “You 
notice I said ‘we/ I would never be equal to any¬ 
thing like that alone.” 

“I will lend you all the wits I have,” returned her 
mother. “But you used to be head and front of 
such affairs in your girlhood days, Madge, and, 
with two bright kiddies to help out and act as a 
stimulus, you ought to be ready to meet any emer¬ 
gency of Halloween entertainment.” 

“It is so different now,” sighed Mrs. Cameron. 
“The children’s parties are on a scale almost as 
elaborate as their elders’, and cost about as much. 
The expense would not be so much of an item, if 
it were not for the work of preparation, which is 
exhausting for one who keeps so little help as I. 
You heard Jessica’s description of Helen King’s 
party. Well, it is only a fair sample. You can see 
by Don’s comments that it was not considered a 
success, by the boys at least, and that they would 
have preferred to be out on the streets playing 
practical jokes on some one.” 

Grandmother Keith had turned the matter over 
in her resourceful brain since the night before; and 
before the morning was over a general plan for the 
entertainment of the children’s intimate friends was 


212 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


completed. It was unfolded to Mr. Cameron, when 
he came in to luncheon, and met with hearty en¬ 
dorsement. 

“Call on me for any help you may need, financial 
or otherwise, mother,” he said, as he left the 
house. “I always dread to see Madge jump into 
anything of this kind, for it invariably leaves her 
worn out. But with your help I am sure it will be 
plain sailing, and perhaps we can make up in this 
way to the youngsters for the loss of their ‘joy¬ 
ride.’ Will you try to keep it from them until the 
time arrives?” 

“No, indeed!” responded his mother. “We shall 
allow them to help in every possible way. That 
will be half the pleasure for them. And you need 
not think we have large intentions on your purse, 
either. This is not to be that kind of party.” 

Mr. Cameron smiled indulgently. “I will venture 
to assert that it will be a success, anyway, with 
you at the helm. So stage the performance in any 
setting you prefer, and I will help out in any r6le 
you may assign to me.” 

It needed but a hint from grandmother, that even¬ 
ing, of the plans that were under consideration, to 
bring Jessica’s lessons to a prompt and satisfactory 
conclusion; and as soon as they were finished, she 
and Mrs. Keith went to the library, where Don 
was just finishing a written review of an epoch in 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


213 


Roman history. Mamma joined them at once, and 
opened the subject by asking them if they would 
like to entertain the “Avenue Gang” with an old- 
fashioned Halloween party of grandmothers ar¬ 
ranging. As Mrs. Keith had already been hostess 
for two or three informal evening gatherings of a 
few of their friends, the children were filled with 
enthusiasm at once, so, with her usual directness, 
she promptly invited them to the dining-room for 
the first step in the preparations. 

Seating them at the table, she produced some 
English walnuts, which Donald was directed to cut 
carefully in halves, emptying the shells, Jessica sat 
by with pencil and paper, and made out a list of the 
guests to be invited, which was not to exceed four¬ 
teen. There was but little disagreement, the two 
being usually very amiable in the arrangement 
of their pleasures. Don made a slight demur when 
Kitty Leighton was mentioned, remarking that she 
was too aristocratic to enjoy anything but the very 
swellest of parties, and Jessica objected sharply to 
Frank King, for whom she had conceived a mild 
dislike since the night of the Niles debate. But 
Mrs. Keith settled both these questions with a word. 

“A taste of simple amusements will not hurt Miss 
Kitty,” she observed, quietly, a and you owe it to 
Helen not to slight her brother.” 

There was some little difficulty in finding enough 


214 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


boys to offset the number of girls, but here again 
grandmother came to the rescue. 

“You do not necessarily need an equal number of 
each,” she remarked. “Should it be desired to 
"pair off/ we can tie a handkerchief around a girl’s 
arm, and let her play boy. It makes lots of fun. 
If she is a good actor, so much the better.” 

When nutshells were emptied of their contents, 
the two wrote, on tiny squares of paper, the invi¬ 
tations, which read: 

October 31 
8.30 p. m. to 12 
Come 

Donald and Jessica 
R. S. V. P. 


One of these was pressed into each empty shell, 
a loop of gay ribbon inserted between the halves, 
which were then firmly glued together, and a card 
attached containing the name of the invited guest. 

Coloring them with water color, in every con¬ 
ceivable shade, in which process Harry was allowed 
to assist, concluded the evening’s labor. Jessica 
looked at them fondly, as they lay in a gay mass 
on the tin plate where they had been placed to dry. 

“Aren’t they dear?” she whispered to Don, as 
they cleared away the litter they had made. He 
replied with a boyish nod and smile, “Grand- 



THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


215 


mother’s the dear. I’ll bet you it will be a great 
lark, sis, just from the ridiculous way its starting 
out. Won’t Helen open her eyes when she gets her 
invitation, and thinks of her last year’s engraved 
ones?” 

“Yes, and she may turn up her nose, too!” 
answered Jessica, laughing. 

It was almost unbelievable how many of the 
things there were to do for the proposed entertain¬ 
ment the children found themselves able to do under 
grandmother’s direction. The next night the 'shell- 
game,’ as Donald called it, was played over again. 
Only this time, the two halves were painted a sim¬ 
ilar color, and in the bottom of each half was affixed 
a tiny wax taper, while on the outside was painted 
the initials of a guest. The use of these half-shells 
was a secret for the present, but in the pleasure and 
excitement of further preparation the youngsters 
had no time to consider folded mysteries. 

There was a visit to the shops, for one evening, 
after a list had been prepared, and an inexpensive 
but choice gift was selected for each guest. The 
children cudgelled their brains to secure some¬ 
thing appropriate; as, for instance, a unique little 
hand mirror for Kitty Leighton; a small but hand¬ 
some medallion of Maude Adams, Marjorie’s ideal 
actress, for that "stage-struck” young lady; and a 
paper-weight in the form of a horse for Fred Parker, 


216 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


who loved horses and had a trained saddle-horse 
of his own. 

These, and others equally suitable, were wrapped 
in a goodly quantity of papers of different colors 
and, after having an apt inscription affixed to each, 
were buried in an immense kettle of oats, represent¬ 
ing a witches’ caldron. 

The evening lessons were not slighted. Jessica 
had learned that grandmother was long on dis¬ 
cipline, so she threw her whole mind into her studies 
for the time, and put them out of the way in short 
order, that the arrangements for the novel party 
might not be interrupted. 

Donald had been commissioned to convey the 
invitations; and he brought in the triumphant report 
that every one had been accepted. This led his 
father to remark, slyly, that he was afraid grand¬ 
mother was getting her name up as an entertainer I 

Promptly at eight-thirty the guests began to 
arrive, to be met at the door by a sheeted figure with 
gleaming eyes, and a clammy, outstretched hand, 
the touch of which brought a scream of horror from 
several girls, and exclamations of dismay from the 
boys. Grandmother had encircled Don’s eyes with 
a wide rim of phosphorus, and, instead of his own 
warm hand, he gave to the guest’s extended one 
a white kid glove, filled with cold, wet sand. After 
this chilly reception by the master of ceremonies. 



PROMPTLY AT EIGHT-THIRTY THE GUESTS BEGAN TO ARRIVE 

(Page 216) 









































. 

































THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


217 


each guest was passed to Jessica, who, in the garb 
of a veritable witch, with three cotton owls in her 
hair, a stuffed black cat on her arm, and a broom¬ 
stick for a wand, ushered them to the dressing- 
rooms above. They were then marshalled through 
a dimly lit passage-way to the dining-room, which 
had undergone a wonderful transformation in the 
past twenty-four hours. Autumn leaves, tied with 
gorgeous crepe-paper ribbons, gleamed everywhere. 
Jack-o-lanterns showed their grinning faces from 
every shelf and the sideboard. Tree branches, gar¬ 
landed with autumn berries, outlined the windows; 
cornstalks, with the ripe ears still hanging on them, 
were massed at either side of the fireplace; and long 
festoons of popcorn and apples hung from the 
window of the big bay. In the center of the room a 
great kettle, suspended from a tripod of rude poles, 
showed faintly through a mass of autumn greenery, 
and from the top of the tripod a trio of great, 
snowy owls, which one could hardly imagine as 
made of cotton-wadding, looked eerily down upon 
the assembled merrymakers. 

The pictures had been removed from the walls, 
or covered with large sheets of drawing paper. 
These had been decorated with cats, owls, witches, 
and bats, in black crayon, the bats hanging by out¬ 
stretched wings, on dead tree limbs. The surround¬ 
ings were creepy enough to give any one u a fine set 


218 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

of thrills,” as Marjorie observed. As soon as all 
the guests were assembled Mrs. Keith lost no time 
in starting a series of merry games, first of which 
was the °‘cabbage game.” 

Each guest was led in turn to the darkened kitchen, 
and invited to draw a cabbage-stump from a basket¬ 
ful. This stump, when brought to the light for in¬ 
spection, was supposed to reveal, by its formation, 
the characteristics of the person choosing it. 

What shouts of laughter went up as Mamma 
Cameron, after gravely considering each stump, 
announced that the specimen betokened a hasty 
temper, a sour disposition, red hair, stinginess or 
liberality, a lean anatomy or the opposite, and so 
on! 

The cabbage test completed, a horizontal bar was 
suspended from a chandelier, having a candlestick 
with a lighted candle affixed to one end, and an 
apple to the other. The bar was then set in motion, 
and a prize offered to the one who should secure a 
bite from the apple. Many were the efforts and fail¬ 
ures, until Claude allowed the candle to give him 
a dab in the face, while he secured “a bite.” For 
his success he was presented with a goose-egg, 
gayly hand-painted with a landscape in the Impres¬ 
sionist style! 

The juggling of a wedding ring over a glass of 
water, while the alphabet was slowly repeated for 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


219 


the initials of the future spouse; the paring of apples 
and throwing the long parings behind one, for the 
formation of mysterious initials—these, and many 
other time-honored Halloween observances were 
indulged in; but at length the party was ushered 
into the darkened parlor, and forbidden to speak, 
laugh, or move about, for five minutes. 

While this novel rest amusement was taking place, 
changes were rapidly being made in the big dining¬ 
room. Eight small tables now surrounded the 
central tripod, and the girls were admitted and 
seated, one at each table. The room then being 
totally darkened, the boys were ushered in, and 
directed to find seats for themselves. There being 
a lack of boys, Marjorie had been deputized by 
Mrs. Keith to “play boy,” and, accordingly, she 
passed in with the laddies. As talking or laughing 
had been tabooed, there was much suppressed 
giggling, and moving about, to secure a desirable 
location. But all were seated at last, and the lights 
streamed out over their heads, disclosing at least 
one funny situation. 

With her quick wit, and her scent for fun, Mar¬ 
jorie had established herself by Edith Courtland, 
one of the shyest members of the party. In the 
darkness she at once proceeded to get acquainted, 
by encircling Edith gently with her arm, and taking 
forcible possession of her hand. Edith failed to 


220 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


recognize her partner, and, overcome with fright 
lest the lights be turned on, tried silently but 
strenuously to draw herself from these embarrassing 
attentions. The sudden illumination of the room 
showed Marjorie’s arm still encircling her, and 
Marjorie’s laughing face close to her own, though 
Edith was pushing her unwelcome companion with 
all her might. 

The look of dismay on her face quickly changed 
to one of relief and amusement as she recognized 
her “spoony” friend. There was a gale of laughter at 
her expense, which put all at their ease, and the 
luncheon proceeded merrily. There were brown 
owls cemented to white ones—“ owl-time sand- 
witches,” Jessica named them—and Frank King 
shocked the guests by remarking that he “could lick 
the stuffing out of such birds all night 1” There 
were tiny sugared doughnuts of grandmother’s own 
making, tied in pairs with yellow love-knots. 
There were delicious frosted cookies cut in heart 
shapes, and funny, little pumpkin tarts which 
melted in one’s mouth. There were old-fashioned 
mugs filled with sweet cider, and tall glasses of real, 
red lemonade. Lastly, there was a wonderful cake, 
with a letter and a figure frosted on the top of every 
piece, a cake which, Mrs. Cameron explained, con¬ 
tained a ring, a button, a coin, and a thimble. 

“The letter on the top,” she continued, “is the 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


221 


initial of your first love; the figure, the number of 
years before you will find your mate. The ring 
indicates the first one of the company to be married; 
the coin, possession of great wealth; the button, 
a single life; and the thimble, a life of labor.” 

The cake was dispensed, each guest choosing with 
closed eyes, and many and varied were the exclama¬ 
tions when it was learned who were the recipients 
of Dame Fortune’s favors. 

Frank King had drawn the ring, and leaning 
over the table, openly offered it to his partner, 
with the accompaniment of his hand and heart. 

“Frank evidently doesn’t intend to lose any 
time,” remarked Hazel Lee. “Everybody hush, 
while Fate, in the person of Miss Kitty Leighton, 
settles this important matter.” 

“Keep it to decorate some worthier hand, Frank,” 
she replied, promptly, though she flushed rosy-red 
with embarrassment. “I would not like to make 
any rash promises at my tender age!” Everybody 
laughed, while Don remarked to Frank that that 
was once he got it in the neck! 

“Unto him that hath shall be given,” sighed 
Claude, somewhat irreverently. “Bert Courtland 
‘took the cake’ as usual. He has the dime. That 
is the important part. Congratulations, Bert!” 

“Margie, as I live, you drew the button!” ex¬ 
claimed Helen. “Fancy you posing as an old maid!” 


222 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Bachelor girl, if you please,” corrected Mar¬ 
jorie. “Madame Fate is entirely correct in her 
forecast. I shall be wedded to my art, and live 
for it alone. Hazel, I see, has the thimble. We 
had arranged long ago to stray through life to¬ 
gether, she to plan my costumes and keep me in 
order generally, while I sway the world with my 
art, and gather up 'dough’ enough for both. So 
what would I want with a man?” 

“That is certainly a stunning program, Margie,” 
commented Grace Snow. “Where and when shall 
you make your debut?” 

“Whatever will you do with that pug nose on the 
stage, Margie?” queried Bert. “And who ever 
saw a redheaded heroine?” (Marjorie’s hair was 
inclined to be auburn.) So the merry jests went 
round, for Marjorie made no secret of her theatrical 
ambitions. 

She laughed their jests to scorn. “If you’re all 
from Missouri, I’ve got you to show, for all things 
must have a beginning, you know,” she began, gayly, 
but Jessica instantly protested. 

“We’ll take up a collection on the spot, to buy 
your first box of grease paint, if you will 'cut it 
out,’ ” she groaned, and Marjorie subsided. 

A little later the tables were cleared away and 
the gay company, with fast-locked hands, circled 
the witches’ caldron, and waited in silence. In 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


223 


the dim light cast by three sickly candles, three 
spectral figures, their faces closely disguised by 
hideous masks, stirred the supposed witches’ broth, 
and muttered in wheezy tones: 

“Double, double toil and trouble; 

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.” 

After the couplet had been repeated three times, to 
the accompaniment of low-turned lights and an 
occasional cattish-sounding wail, each guest in 
turn was handed a gift, and requested to read the 
accompanying inscription aloud. 

The guests decided afterward that only a most 
expert mind-reader could have distributed Fortune’s 
favors so skilfully. The hand-mirror for Miss Kitty 
might have been an accident, had it not been for 
the accompanying inscription, 

“Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us, 

To see oursels as ithers see us!” 

The miniature hair brush for Mabel Underwood, 
whose curly locks were in a chronic state of tousle, 
bore the advice, 

“Use me till your elbows ache, 

Use me till your back do break, 

For your friends’ and beauty’s sake!” 

An assorted array of gorgeously dressed paper dolls 
fell to the lot of Hazel, who still indulged her child- 


224 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


ish taste for dressing dolls. The last gift, which 
fell to Claude, the naturalist of the party, proved 
to be an artificial snake which, mounted on a 
spring, made a pass at his face as he opened the box 
in which it reposed. 

Claude had his revenge a moment later, for when 
the circle disbanded to compare gifts and seek new 
fields of amusement, he caught the largest and most 
awkward of the attendant witches by her flowing 
hair, and the black cloth mask and ragged locks 
came off in his vandal fingers. Papa Cameron thus 
betrayed gave a shriek of dismay, and fled through 
the near-by library door, causing a shout of merri¬ 
ment from the delighted guests. 

“The very idea of papa romping around in that 
kind of rig!^ exclaimed Jessica, when she could get 
her breath for laughing. “I shall never be afraid 
of him again when he gets on his dignity, never!” 

Lastly, a large dishpan of water was placed on the 
dining-room table and each guest was given the 
fairy boat, bearing his initial, which had been 
fashioned from the walnut shells. After the tiny 
tapers were lighted, the children silently dropped 
them into the water, and stood in a circle to watch 
them as they floated gracefully about. 

As Mrs. Keith stirred the water occasionally, by 
a gentle shake of the pan, it was a pretty sight to see 
the dancing, gayly painted shells, moving hither and 


THE HALLOWEEN PARTY 


225 


thither, as though really seeking a mate. Hazel 
Lee's bark was first to go down, and Don's taper 
was last to go out; indicating the shortest and the 
longest span of years. Marjorie's bark floated side 
by side with Jessica's through every disturbance; 
and Frank King’s and Kitty Leighton’s touched and 
separated three times before going down, side by 
side and almost at the same time. The group 
watched and commented, until the last tiny taper 
expired. 

“That’s the prettiest Halloween trick I ever saw 
tried!” exclaimed Mr. Cameron, who had shed his 
witch's costume, and returned to the room in time 
to see the fairy boats in their sailing ventures. 
“One could almost imagine the spirits of the owners 
were directing their movements.” 

The prolonged striking of the library clock roused 
the revellers to the recollection that their invitations 
had been limited to the hour of twelve, and they 
began reluctantly to make preparations for de¬ 
parture. Donald’s “glad hand,” gravely offered 
in farewell at the door, was declined by all; but 
as Jessica gayly waved her guests from the door 
with her witch’s broom, both she and her brother 
were overwhelmed with a profusion of thanks for 
the pleasures of the evening. 

“I believe they really and truly meant it too, 
gramsie,” declared the weary dispenser of Hal- 


226 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


loween festivities, as she sank for a moment on 
grandmother’s hearth rug before seeking her own 
nest. “I watched them all, all the evening, and 
not one seemed bored or disgusted in the least. 
Don told me a few minutes ago that he had never 
enjoyed a party so much in his life as he had tonight, 
and I am sure I never had a better time. It doesn’t 
take hired orchestras, and expensive caterers, and 
swell clothes, to have a good time after all, does it?” 

“That was what mamma and I thought when we 
arranged it, Jessica dear,” answered grandmother, 
smiling down fondly on the flushed face. “In these 
days of elaborate entertainment old people as well 
as young are apt to forget that simple pleasures are 
still the best and leave the most happiness behind.” 


Chapter XI 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER” 

“Gramsie,” said Jessica a few evenings later, as 
she curled up in her low rocker in Mrs. Keith’s 
bedroom for the chat which had come to be a 
common occurrence before retiring, “I have a very 
serious problem on my mind. May I tell you about 
it?” 

“To be sure. Is it in compound fractions, or 
square root?” 

“Neither,” laughed Jessica. “You see, one week 
from Saturday is Kitty Leighton’s fifteenth birth¬ 
day; and as we have had a surprise for every girl 
in our club this year, we must have something for 
her. We have taken turns in planning each one, 
and it is up to me to suggest what shall be done 
for Kitty. I am so glad it comes on Saturday, 
and I would like to have a ‘shower’ for her, if it 
were not for my painting lesson.” 

“The painting lesson can have a morning hour 
for once, or it can be sidetracked altogether for such 
an important thing as a birthday,” replied her 
listener. “What then?” 


227 


228 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“You know how they do 'showers/ don’t you, 
gramsie?” she went on, pulling out her brown braids 
to thread her small fingers through the shining 
strands of hair, and gazing thoughtfully into the 
glowing grate. “Everybody goes to her chum’s 
house, and each one carries something she has made 
or bought, and something for refreshments too, 
and it’s all a surprise. 

“As we have had one for two of the others, I would 
like this one to be different, someway. I am glad 
this is the last birthday for this year among the 
girls,” a little pucker of anxiety clouding the girl¬ 
ish face. “It has been quite a stunt to plan and 
carry out so many entertainments. Edith Court- 
land’s and Hazel Lee’s come with only a day be¬ 
tween them; so we just combined theirs, by going 
to a matinee on the day between. We just couldn’t 
be celebrating all the time. That was Marjorie’s 
idea, and I think it was a good one. We made up 
a purse, and paid all their expenses, and treated 
them afterward to ice cream and chocolates. Then 
we took a ride to the end of the longest car-line, 
seven miles and back. We had lots of fun celebrat¬ 
ing the double birthday, as we called it. 

“Then we had a 'shower’ for Mabel Underwood, 
who lives in that fine house three doors east of Mar¬ 
gie’s. She is so awfully rich that everything had 
to be just swell. Some of our mammas thought 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER’ 


229 


we could not afford so much expense, so we got cross 
and fussy over it, and nobody enjoyed it at all. I 
did a lunch cloth for her, and I never got so tired 
of anything in all my life! Mamma had to help 
me to get it done in time, and she told me then 
that I would never be allowed to begin another 
thing like that, unless I was certain I could finish 
it.” 

“Did the ‘put-off habit’ get you?” queried grand¬ 
mother, with an amused smile. 

“Some,” confessed Jessica. “Then, too, Harry 
was sick and it was so hot nobody wanted to work. 
Can you give me some new ideas, gramsie?” 

Mrs. Keith reflected several minutes before an¬ 
swering her granddaughter, who still sat with her 
chin in her hand, gazing into the fire. 

“I would be glad to assist you with any sug¬ 
gestions, if I could, Jessica,” she said at last, but in 
a tone so unlike “gramsie’s” that Jessica looked 
up quickly. 

“Don’t you believe in ‘showers’? ” she asked. 

What grandmother did and did not believe in 
was coming to be more and more a matter of mo¬ 
ment to Jessica, and she waited eagerly for the an¬ 
swer. 

“Yes, and no, dear. If the gifts which compose 
the ‘shower’ are inexpensive trifles into which the 
loving remembrance of the giver has been wrought, 


230 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


or if they are on the fun-making order, and if the 
luncheon is simple enough also to be easily managed, 
the ‘shower’ plan seems to me to be all right; but 
if it is more trouble and expense than the givers 
can well afford, then it is certainly not so good.” 

“Then we will plan one of the first kind,” an¬ 
swered Jessica, gayly. “If you don’t mind, gramsie, 
I will ask the girls over here for a few minutes after 
school tomorrow, and we will let you decide what we 
shall each give, and what the refreshments shall be. 
Then I am certain there will be no hard feelings.” 

“And if yours is a success,” returned Mrs. Keith, 
“then I shall plan one which I shall ask you all to 
help me carry out.” 

Jessica looked inquiringly at her companion, 
but grandmother’s eyes were bent, just then, on 
her swiftly flying fingers. Presently Jessica asked, 
“On whom? I don’t know of any more birthdays 
in our set, very soon; not before Christmas, any¬ 
way. Or in the family either, only papa’s, which 
comes next month; but I would laugh to see any¬ 
body work off a ‘shower’ on him! He would prob¬ 
ably ‘be obliged to be in Columbus that day, on 
business’ for his firm! He would certainly make 
it a point to be anywhere except at the ‘shower’!” 

“I have no intentions on papa’s peace of mind,” 
laughed grandmother. “But the ‘who’ shall be 
my secret, if you please, until we see how Miss 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER” 


231 


Kitty's comes out. Is she quite a rich little girl? 
I have inferred as much." 

“Her folks are not so wealthy as Mabel’s," 
returned Jessica, “but Kitty has about everything 
she wants. I am beginning to wonder already 
what I could get for her, that she hasn’t already. 
Won’t you work your head for me, gramsie dear, 
before Monday night?" 

Don paused at the open door just then, and caught 
the petition. 

“Seems to me grandmother is requested to ‘work 
her head’ quite regularly, lately, for somebody I 
know. I just stepped up to inquire if there was 
any chance for me to get five minutes’ help on this 
tenth theorem; but if you have a monopoly on 
grandmother’s brains—’’ 

“What makes you study so on Saturday night 
for?" interrupted his sister. 

“For to keep my gray matter in circulation over 
Sunday, and incidentally for to improve my gram¬ 
mar!" replied Don, facetiously. 

“We girls are going to get up a 'shower’ on Kitty 
Leighton, for her birthday," went on Jessica, ig¬ 
noring Don’s thrust at her mode of expression. 
“I was only asking grandmother to give me an idea 
for my offering. But if you think her brains are in 
danger of collapse from the demands made on them, 
you might dig up the idea and let all her mental 


232 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


effort be saved for the tenth theorem, whatever 
that may be.” 

“Delighted!” returned Don. “If I am not mis¬ 
taken, Miss Leighton is the sweet young creature 
who comes to school looking as though she were 
arrayed for a fancy-dress ball. By all means give 
her a pot of cold cream, a box of rose paste, a powder 
puff, a set of crimping pins, an electric wrinkle- 
eradicator, and as many other articles of like 
utility as you think she will have leisure to manip¬ 
ulate, outside of the brief time she must give to 
brain improvement and beauty-sleep. Her ex¬ 
penses for cosmetics must be enormous.” 

“Shame on you, Don! When did you ever say 
anything as rude as that of one of my friends be¬ 
fore?” 

“I beg your pardon, my dear sister, also Miss 
Kitty's; but ‘fac’s is fac’s/ and occasionally invite 
the attention of a candid world. But if my sug¬ 
gestion is so distasteful to you, permit me to change 
it to the extreme of simplicity, and suggest that 
her admiring friends each present Miss Kitty with 
a thimble, a needle, and a towel to hem. The 
spontaneity of the offering might inspire her to 
make an effort in the direction of usefulness—who 
knows?” 

“I am afraid I will have to get the dictionary 
yet, to interpret your remarks,” laughed Jessica. 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER’ 


233 


“Thanks for your suggestions, however, and you 
may have grandmother for just twenty minutes.” 

“Have you a mortage on her time, which you 
expect to foreclose at that time?” he inquired, with 
fine sarcasm. 

Jessica evaded the question. 

“I give you fair warning that I shall not excuse 
any more such slams on Kitty, for she is one of the 
nicest girls in our set, and one of the best liked, even 
if her dresses are a trifle loud. She can afford to 
wear fine clothes, but she is not a bit stuck-up. 
When little Norman Gray fell and cut his face open 
on a paving brick the other day, Kitty got her hands 
all dirty, and ruined a fine handkerchief wiping 
the dust and blood from his face. And she didn’t 
seem to care a bit.” 

“Quite commendable!” commented Don. “Now, 
if she could only be induced to display the same 
judgment in matters of dress! She always im¬ 
presses me as a sort of composite of the ‘lily of the 
valley’ and ‘Solomon in all his glory.’ ” 

“And if you are going to indulge in figures of 
speech,” retorted Jessica,” she impresses me as 
a walking model of the text, ‘Charity thinketh 
no evil!’ I never heard Kitty Leighton say an 
unkind thing of anyone in my life!” and Jessica 
flounced into her own room, after this parting shot, 
almost vexed, for once, with her brother. 


234 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Promptly at the close of the Monday session of 
school the library at the Cameron home was 
invaded by a merry group of chattering girls. 
The entire club was present, except Miss Kitty and 
her special chum, Grace Snow, who had been 
deputized to take up her friend’s attention for an 
hour or so, and who had persuaded Kitty to ac¬ 
company her to the city library “for some notes. 

Once plunged into the discussion of a “shower,” 
the tongues wagged fast, every one having some 
suggestion to make; but at length Marjorie, who 
was president of the club, succeeded in securing 
silence. 

“Mrs. Keith has a plan for us,” she announced. 
“Now, everybody keep still and listen.” 

The girls laughingly obeyed their spokesman’s 
decided orders, and Mrs. Keith suggested, “How 
would you like to give your friend a set of flower 
doilies which you had made yourselves? If you 
wish your gift to have an individual appearance, 
and yet not be too expensive, or take too much 
of your time at this busy season, work each one in 
a different pattern, and have each one done up 
in a different color of tissue or ribbon, and ac¬ 
companied by each person’s favorite flower, or an 
appropriate verse of greeting.” 

“I could not write a verse of poetry if my life 
depended on it,” frowned matter-of-fact Jennie 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER” 235 

White. “Mine would have to be labeled simply, 
‘Hello, KittyT ” 

“It would not necessarily have to be poetry,” 
returned Mrs. Keith, “though an attempt at rhyme 
would probably be more amusing. I used to write 
jingles for my girl friends in college, occasionally, 
and perhaps could reinforce your ideas a little. 
Making up a couplet to accompany a flower would 
scarcely induce a brainstorm. By the way, Mrs. 
Cameron and I found a little shop down on Main 
street the other day, where an old lady makes and 
sells the loveliest crepe and tissue flowers I have 
ever seen. If you would find the hothouse prod¬ 
uct too expensive, why could you not make selec¬ 
tions from her large stock in which to hide your 
gift? They would certainly furnish a gorgeous 
shower.” 

“That is a dandy idea!” declared Edith Court- 
land. “I move that we ask Mrs. Keith to make 
our purchases for us, and arrange the details, if 
it is not too much trouble for her; then we will work 
like Trojans to carry out her plans.” 

“I am glad it is to be something inexpensive, and 
not very much work,” said Hazel, for mother is 
so opposed to my putting so much time and money 
into these birthday affairs.” 

“Perhaps,” suggested Mrs. Keith, “it would be 
well for Mrs. Cameron, who knows the best shops, 


236 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


and myself, to look around and report before 
making purchases.” 

It was decided that this would be the better plan, 
and then Mrs. Keith added, “You young ladies 
know the saying that ‘there is graft in everything 
that is going, nowadays.’ If I attend to all these 
matters for you busy students, I am going to ask, 
in turn, that you will give me your aid later in a 
little matter that will not take much time or money. 
But it will give you all, if I am not very much mis¬ 
taken, a great deal more pleasure than this 'shower’ 
will. What do you say? Are you willing to take 
me on trust, to this extent?” 

“We never miss a chance to have a good time,” 
promptly returned Marjorie, for the circle. “What 
do you want us to do?” 

Mrs. Keith refused to divulge any hint of her 
secret, at present, so the meeting was pronounced 
adjourned, and the girls walked home in twos and 
threes, their tongues still wagging. 

“That’s the sweetest woman I ever knew!” 
declared Marjorie, “and I can’t tell why, either. 
She’s not so handsome. But she just makes you 
feel comfortable, and sort of satisfied with every¬ 
body and everything, as soon as you come where 
she is.” 

“She’s got a lot of sensible, practical ideas,” 
said Edith. “Jessica Cameron always was a sweet 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER" 237 

girl, but I can’t help seeing a great improvement in 
her since Mrs. Keith came. I wouldn’t mind having 
her for a grandmother, myself.” 

“I wish we might make her an honorary member 
of the club while she stays,” suggested Hazel. 
“I never did want any grown folks poking around 
in it before, but I think she would be lots of 
fun.” 

“I thought of that myself,” agreed Marjorie, 
“when she offered to do all that looking around for 
us. Let’s make her honorary president; and per¬ 
haps she will give us some practical suggestions that 
will help us to pull the old club out of the rut it’s 
been in for more than a year. I am getting ashamed 
to belong to it. It doesn’t amount to anything.” 

“Miss Vance is utterly disgusted with us, I am 
sure,” giggled Helen King. “She never mentions 
the club to us any more at Sunday school.” 

“When were you ever there to hear it, if she did?” 
queried Edith, “Though I don’t know as it is quite 
proper for me to ask such a question.” 

“It doesn’t seem easy to keep up something of 
that kind, while we are going to school,” interposed 
Marjorie. “We nearly all have a few home duties, 
most of us are trying to keep up our music, and 

“And we do not intend to allow anything so frivo¬ 
lous as a charity club to distract our attention from 
the more essential matters of Saturday matinees, 


238 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


a party as often as once a week, and other diversions 
too numerous to mention. Why don’t you say it, 
Margie, and be done with it?” 

“It seems to be being said for me,” laughed 
Margie. “I endorse your sentiments, too. But I 
don’t see what we can do. None of our acquain¬ 
tances seem to be in need of charity,” with a glance 
over the well-dressed group of girls. “Christmas 
is coming soon, however, and perhaps it will help 
to stir us out of our usual state of do-nothing¬ 
ness!” 

“Margie has coined a new word,” remarked 
Edith. “Will you have it put in the next dic¬ 
tionary, Margie?” 

“It fits the bunch it referred to, anyway,” con¬ 
ceded Hazel. “I am hoping that Mrs. Keith, or 
somebody else, will wake us up before this proposed 
shower is over. Now, mind, girls, not a whisper 
to Kitty. Mum’s the word.” 

With Mrs. Cameron’s help Mrs. Keith promptly 
discharged her commission to select the fancy work 
to be prepared for the “shower,” and at her request 
the girls met the following evening to inspect her 
purchases. Somewhat to their disappointment, they 
found the shoppers had made a selection of perfectly 
plain, though elegant, material. 

“Those fringed borders are perfect,” commented 
Edith, “and will save buttonholing the edges, which 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER’ 


239 


is the part I dislike; but it would be less work if the 
pattern were already stamped. Will each one have 
to stamp our own?” 

“We brought these home on approval,” explained 
Mrs. Keith, “as we could find nothing in so fine 
material, in the stamped patterns, though we visited 
several shops. I am going to suggest that you allow 
me to draw your several designs, one on each 
doily, and make them as simple as possible.” 

“But can you do that, grandmother?” asked 
Jessica, astonished. 

For answer, Mrs. Keith took one of Don’s draw¬ 
ing pencils and a sheet of paper from the table 
drawer, and a moment later a simple sketch of a 
wild rose, with a bud and a few leaves, appeared on 
the sheet. 

“I thought of this plan, when I remembered that 
some of your number said they did not embroider,” 
she said, and the sketch was handed around the 
table to receive unqualified endorsement. “A 
few fern leaves, in outline stitch, or a conventional 
design in the same, would be as pretty as embroidery 
and make a variety. That each one may have a 
fair show in the matter of selection, I suggest that 
the doilies be numbered, and each girl draw a 
numbered slip, choosing in the order of her number. 
Leave the matter open to exchange later, if anyone 
wishes.” 


240 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


This suggestion met with immediate favor. 

“Mrs. Keith,” asked Grace Snow, ‘when did you 
learn that we girls of the Helping Hand were ex¬ 
ceedingly jealous of our rights and privileges?” 

“I assure you I have that yet to learn, Miss 
Grade,” replied Mrs. Keith, “but I was a girl once 
myself, and I fear I often forgot the text, Tn honor 
preferring one another.’ ” 

The girls looked at one another with conscious 
smiles. 

“Did you know that that is the motto of our 
club?” inquired Jennie. 

“I certainly must plead not guilty,” she answered, 
with an embarrassed glance at Jessica. “I thought 
my granddaughter had given me the history of 
your club from 'Genesee to Reverberations,’ as the 
old colored brother says, but there seems to have 
been one item omitted.” 

Jessica laughed with the rest, though she also 
flushed slightly. 

“I thought of telling you the motto of our club 
one day, grandmother,” she confessed, “and then 
I was ashamed to, for we do so little to show 
it.” 

“Never mind,” returned Mrs. Keith, lightly. “Like 
the man who stepped into the hole in his friend’s 
garden walk, which he had meant to tell him about, 
I have found it out for myself. Perhaps we can 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER’ 


241 


make a practical application of it in parceling out 
our work. I will draw them all for you tomorrow, 
as the time is so short, and you may come tomorrow 
evening and make your selections.” 

November’s early chill was in the air, and gray 
skies ushered in the dawn of Kitty Leighton’s 
fifteenth birthday; but within the elegant parlors 
of that favored young lady’s home all was bright¬ 
ness and good cheer. Under Mrs. Keith’s clever 
management the preparations for the party had gone 
smoothly forward with much less work and worry 
than usually accompany an affair of this kind. 
There had been scarcely a ripple of excitement in 
the several households, and the respective mothers 
voted Mrs. Keith an unmixed blessing! 

Wise schemer that she was, she had gently but 
persistently declined the numerous and insistent 
invitations to be present at the birthday “shower,” 
but had promised to look in upon them after the 
luncheon was over, then to unfold the plan for which 
she had asked their cooperation when the “shower” 
was first proposed; and they had been obliged to be 
content with this. 

The “shower” was a complete surprise to its 
recipient. A great amount of not very secret con¬ 
sultation had been indulged in concerning a suitable 
joint gift for Miss Kitty’s birthday offering, which 


242 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


had led her entirely astray as to the real plan of 
celebration. The girls had furnished the menu—a 
very simple one—and Kitty’s father had obligingly 
taken her to the limit of the city for a birthday 
spin, that the preparations for the luncheon might 
be hastily completed at her home. 

When she returned, her mother met her at the door 
with the announcement that Marjorie and Jessica 
had called, and she went to her room to dress, 
where she found a pretty new frock laid ready for 
the afternoon. 

“Margie and Jessica, fudge!” she thought to her¬ 
self, as an occasional smothered giggle was wafted 
up the stairway. “That whole bunch of kids is 
downstairs, if I know anything about it, and it is 
a party, or a tea, or—something. This is what 
they have been slipping around corners and whis¬ 
pering about for the last week, and I have been 
suspecting horrid things all the time!” 

With the help of her mother’s maid, she slipped 
hurriedly into the new dress, and went expectantly 
down. The drawing-room was empty; and she 
peeped into the dining-room. Sure enough, there 
was the “gang,” seated at the table with Jessica 
at the head, and only the place of honor-guest still 
vacant. 

Jessica rose with great dignity, and marshalled 
her to this seat, and, as Kitty afterward expressed 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER' 


243 


herself, her “nerve” all gone for a moment, she 
slipped shyly into the vacant chair amid a chorus of 
“Many happy returns!” 

The luncheon was served at once. After it was 
concluded, and the dishes had been removed by the 
smiling maid, a ribbon attached to a very large fancy 
basket which had been suspended above the table 
throughout the spread, was put into Kitty’s hand 
by the merry mistress of ceremonies, and she was 
invited to pull the string. 

“I’ve been keeping one eye on that basket all 
through this ‘eat,’” she remarked, doubtfully, 
“and I have guessed in my mind a hundred things 
it might contain. But I would really like someone 
else at the table to upset it.” 

“It isn’t as dangerous as the sword of Damocles, 
Kitty,” assured Jessica, “though you may think 
that it is before you get through with the stunt 
it will impose on your gray matter. And I assure 
you it hasn’t a gold brick in it. Ready, one, two, 
three!” and yielding to their merry importunities 
Kitty gave the ribbon a vigorous pull. She was 
almost overwhelmed by an avalanche of floral offer¬ 
ings which were such excellent imitations of their 
natural sisters, even to perfume, that, as Kitty 
remarked, “the whole conservatory seems to have 
been upset.” 

“Each flower contains a remembrance from some 


244 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


one present,” explained Jessica. “You may open 
each one and appropriate the gift, only as you guess 
from the inscription on the written slip outside who 
is the giver.” 

“H—m! Quite an interesting program for every 
one present except ‘yours truly!’ ” commented the 
recipient of the “shower,” somewhat sarcastically. 
“If I must, however, I must; so here goes!” unfasten¬ 
ing, as she spoke, a card from the flower lying near¬ 
est. 

“The naughtiest, smallest, and homeliest too, 

Of the gang that roams on the avenue, 

Brings you good wishes, Kitty dear, 

To greet the morn of your fifteenth year.” 

“Am I supposed to recognize and point out one 
of those present from this description?” demanded 
Kitty, in great dismay. “Pray who hatched up this 
rude plot to set me back forever in the kind regards 
of my friends? But I think I see a way to evade 
such a dangerous possibility. Hazel, you are the 
‘smallest’ of the gang, so I hereby deny and set 
aside your other adjectives as slanderous, and 
claim my right to search this charming posy for my 
rightful spoil.” 

Hazel laughingly assented, and Kitty shook from 
the depths of a great white lily the first of the set 
of doilies, with the monogram H. L. in the center 
surrounded by a wreath of dainty fern leaves. 


THE BIRTHDAY 11 SHOWER' 


245 


“Your friends and companions bring greetings today, 

To a comrade and chum always pleasant and gay. 

As your past has been bright, may your future be brighter, 
And your life’s page as fair as the name of this writer. 

May your pleasures be many, your sorrows not any. 

Please accept these best wishes! Your loving friend,-” 

Kitty promptly supplied the missing signature. 

“Thank you, so much, for making it easy, Jen,” 
she said, making a profound bow in Jennie’s direc¬ 
tion. “I am afraid I am in some danger of mental 
collapse before these flowers all shed their internal 
fragrance, so to speak,” placing a wildrose doily 
by the side of the fern. 

“Oh, thou transcendently lovely being, queen 
hollyhock of the hollyhock garden of girls, so to 
speak, deign to receive from one of the humblest of 
thy adoring admirers this slight tribute to the re¬ 
turn of thy natal morn! Hail, glorious morn!” 

This glowing apostrophe was folded about the 
stem of an immense, gorgeous hollyhock, and when 
Kitty had read it she laid it down and gasped for 
breath. 

“Who would suppose anyone would ever pour 
out such a gusher for poor me! Mabel, this effusion 
could have originated nowhere except in your 
fertile brain,” nodding her head in Mabel’s direc¬ 
tion. “Am I correct?” 

Having extracted the doily in response to Mabel s 



246 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

assent, Kitty still continued to separate the glowing 
leaves. 

“There is but one piece in each flower,” ventured 
Mabel. “What are you looking for, Kitty?” 

“The dictionary you must have used,” returned 
Kitty. “I thought it might have been included as 
a silent interpreter of the beautiful thought.” 

She proceeded to inspect the doily, which bore 
three beautifully wrought monograms. 

“M. U. is for you, Mabel; K. L. is for me; but 
where does the H. H. come in?” questioned Kitty, 
with a puzzled frown. “Perhaps this is a quotation 
from Helen Hunt.” 

“Helen Hunt, nothing! Holly Hock, goosie,” 
laughingly answered the donor. I was long on 
monograms, and short on embroidering hollyhocks; 
so the H. H. monogram will remind you.” 

“The rose is red and so is my head; 

The violet’s blue, and my eyes are, too. 

This rhyme is bum, for my wits are few, 

But I love you Kitty, I truly do. 

Accept best wishes from you know who.” 

“If I didn’t, I would as soon as I saw this,” re¬ 
sponded Kitty as she held up a doily whose surface 
was almost covered by a glowing, red carnation. 
“Who ever loved carnations more than you do, 
Kathie, or can embroider them more beautifully?” 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER’ 


247 


“I rather thought myself that I could ‘do’ carna¬ 
tions till I saw a centerpiece Jessica’s grandmother 
did,” answered Katherine, lightly. “Since then I 
have taken a back seat with my needlework.” 

“Who would presume to indite 
E’en to a chosen comrade some crude verse, 

When the great bard himself such wisdom lends 
As ‘Pansies, that’s for thoughts.’ His views and mine are 
one.” 

Of course this offering was accompanied by a 
bunch of pansies, and Kitty gave a swift glance 
toward the head of the table as she laid it down 
and remarked, “It seems to me I recognize the 
fine, Italian hand of somebody’s grandmother, in 
this high-flown tribute. How about it, Jessica?” 

“Oh, it might have been her brother, but I think 
it was grandmother; yes, it could have been no 
other,” chattered Marjorie. “Say, girls, don’t you 
know it’s just as easy to think in rhyme—” 

“Be still, Margie!” cried Hazel, impatiently, 
“and let Kitty get on with her stunt! Mrs. Keith 
will be here directly.” 

“I am ‘on’ to this one,” rejoined Kitty, holding 
up the pansy doily to show that in the center of 
each flower face Jessica had embroidered a dimin¬ 
utive ‘J.’ Kitty laid the favor aside with a last, 
loving pat. 


248 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“This simple little ‘billy doo/ 

Herewith inscribed, dear Kit, to you, 

Contains some birthday wishes true. 

May all your skies be brightest blue, 

May fame be yours and riches too, 

Your friends be neither false nor few, 

Roses your crown, unmixed with rue, 

Fond lovers for your favor sue, 

Life’s fairest flowers your pathway strew, 

And Fortune smile on all you do.” 

A gale of merry laughter went round the table 
as Kitty finished reading this medley of “best 
wishes.” 

“This is surely from the poet laureate of the gang,” 
declared the reader. “It sounds as if you were wound 
up and couldn't stop until you were run down, 
Margie.” 

“I told you it was easy, if you just get started 
right,” reaffirmed Marjorie. 

“I'm sure I didn’t find it so,” was Edith's em¬ 
phatic disclaimer. “Perhaps I didn’t get rightly 
started.” 

“You just get the spelling book,” explained Mar¬ 
gie, “and find a list of words that sound alike, and 
put them down in a row. Then put some more 
words before each one that will say just what you 
want to say, and there you are!” 

“Such an easy recipe!” jeered Edith. “You sure 
ought to get it patented, and put it on the market, 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER’ 


249 


Margie. You would find a ready sale for it among 
lovers, and spring poets, and mutts like me!” 

Margie’s doily was sprinkled thick with blue for¬ 
get-me-nots, and Kitty laughed as she laid it with 
the others. 

“I’ll always associate you with forget-me-nots 
and spelling-book poetry from this day on, Margie,” 
she said. 

“White rose, that blooms for Beauty’s bower, 

I pluck, dear friend, for you, 

And bring to grace this festal hour, 

And prove my friendship true. 

Go to my friend, O lovely rose, 

And nestling in her hair 
Whisper sweet wishes from her chum, 

For future birthdays fair.” 


“This is like a fairy story being acted out before 
my eyes,” said Kitty. “My chum,” with a loving 
look at Edith, “has just tied another string to my 
affections, if I may so express myself,” holding up 
Edith’s offering, a doily with a single white rose, 
without bud or leaf. 

“Warm are my wishes, though my name sounds chill; 

While birthdays come and go I’ll love thee still.” 


“This hints of snow and other chilly things,” 
remarked the recipient, shaking a mammoth snow- 


250 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


ball, until the gift dropped out. “There isn’t 
a dish of ice cream, or a real snowball, hidden some¬ 
where in it, is there, Gracie dear?” 

The last flower, a magnificent silk poppy, lay be¬ 
fore Kitty, and she picked it up slowly, as though 
half-reluctant to bring to a close the afternoon’s 
pleasure. 

“An original couplet your birthday to grace, 

Is a task far too great for my brain. 

To frame up a ditty, both pleasing and witty, 

I have wooed all the muses in vain. 

So with many good wishes, and fifteen warm kisses, 

I’ll close this effusion at once, 

To make out the label I’m sure you’ll be able, 

For I’m only the Avenue Dunce.” 

Kitty sighed with pleasure, as she extracted the 
poppy-bordered bit of fancy work from its silken 
envelope. 

“Leaving out those already guessed, guessing is 
getting easy,” she commented. “Though I could 
never assign the dunce cap to anyone who can 
woo the Muse like that, Helen. This has certainly 
been the most perfect birthday greeting I ever had, 
or ever saw had” she continued. 

“Jessica, a little bird whispered to me that you 
were the prime mover in this series of birthday sur¬ 
prises. How can I ever thank you properly?” 

“You do me too much honor,” answered Jessica. 


THE BIRTHDAY “SHOWER’ 


251 


“The originator of most of the ideas, and many of 
the arrangements, fastened her birthday remem¬ 
brance in the bottom of the basket, and I think 
you overlooked it.” 

Kitty immediately fished under the table for the 
supposedly empty basket and, having untied the 
ribbon which had confined it, drew from its depth 
a dainty booklet. In the center of the chamois- 
skin cover the letters “D. K.” and “K. L.” were 
skilfully interwoven in pyrography, with a simple 
border of pansies. Opening the book, Kitty was 
delighted to find that each page contained a water 
color of one of the flowers that had been used in the 
“shower,” with its accompanying inscription written 
below in elegant text, each signed with the giver’s 
own autograph. On the flyleaf was inscribed, in 
golden lettering in Old English text, “May every 
link in the chain of your friendships be of purest 
gold. D. K.,” and the group of girls that crowded 
around Kitty for inspection of this pretty memento 
seemed to feel that the wish were not alone for the 
recipient of the birthday favor. 

“What a beautiful thought!” exclaimed Kitty, 
“to put all these lovely remembrances in such a 
permanent form! Nobody but Mrs. Keith could 
have planned and carried out such a perfect idea! 
It will always be a sort of echo of this happy after¬ 
noon!” 


252 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“That’s what grandmother said,” rejoined Jessica, 
shyly. “She said the flowers would spoil, and the 
written slips could not be easily preserved; but this 
booklet would keep, to remind you when you were 
old of your fifteenth birthday and how it was 
celebrated.” 


Chapter XII 


THE GIOVANNIS’ THANKSGIVING 

Jessica, in the daintiest of party attire, had 
scarcely left her home for the Leightons’ on that 
eventful afternoon, when Grandmother Keith went 
out also, taking, however, a different direction. 
From the aristocratic home of the Camerons to the 
squalid shack of Pietro Giovanni was scarcely a 
five-minute walk, and she soon paused on the rude 
step. Knocking lightly at the door and meeting 
with no response, she confidently lifted the latch 
and went in. 

Little Guido lay asleep on an old cot near the win¬ 
dow; and, at first glance, Mrs. Keith saw no one 
else in the room. But a moment later Beatrice rose 
from the floor by her brother’s side, and the visitor 
noted at once that she had been crying. In her 
heart, as she took in the girl’s cheerless surroundings, 
she did not wonder why. All the dreariness and 
gloom of the dull November day seemed to pervade 
the miserable room. 

She went straight to the drooping figure, and took 
the reluctant hands in her own ungloved, compas- 
253 


254 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


sionate ones. This was not by any means her first 
visit, unaccompanied, to the Giovanni home; but 
she had never before met on Beatrice’s part any¬ 
thing but the most cheerful indifference to the 
wretchedness of her surroundings. 

“Something is troubling you, Beatrice,” she said, 
in her gentle, direct way. “Is the little brother 
sick?” 

The girl shook her head, with a weary glance in 
the direction of the cot. 

“Sit down, then, and tell me just what is the 
matter,” continued the visitor, seating herself, 
and drawing the young girl to a chair by her side. 
“I came on purpose to have a long talk with you 
this afternoon, and I have something very nice 
indeed to tell you.” 

The sweet face, which Beatrice had already 
learned to love, the sympathetic tones, the warm 
clasp of the kind hands, overcame the girl’s reserve, 
and five minutes later she was sobbing out all her 
pain and discouragement on the motherly shoulder, 
as freely as Jessica would have done had that 
fortunate young lady had any troubles worth 
mentioning. Her ignorance of her work and its 
ever increasing burdens, the poverty of her home 
and its surroundings, the lack of clothes for her 
brothers and sister, that they might go to school 
and “look-a like the others,” and, last but not least, 


THE GIOVANNIS’ THANKSGIVING 255 


her father’s discouragement with her management 
of the home. It had been so much better under 
his wife’s superior knowledge, and his discourage¬ 
ment had grown into impatience until, that morning, 
he had done what he had never done before in her 
life, he had struck her and called her “a good-for- 
nothing lazy bambino!” 

Mrs. Keith was nearly in tears herself when the 
child—for she was scarcely more—finished her sor¬ 
rowful story, and gave way to a fresh burst of sobs. 
As Beatrice’s present condition of mind, however, 
was most favorable for the success of her now well- 
matured plans, the kindly visitor sat for a few min¬ 
utes with her arm laid tenderly about the girl’s 
shoulders, letting the tears flow unchecked. Then 
she said gently, “You will let me help you, will 
you not, Beatrice, to change all this, and make 
you and your brothers and sister comfortable for 
the winter?” 

The poor girl lifted her head dazedly. There was 
much confidence in the kindly tones, and new hope 
sprang suddenly in her heart. This gentle stranger 
had never crossed the threshold of her cheerless 
home that her coming had not brought some added 
measure of comfort to its inmates. 

“How?” she queried, directly. 

“That is what I have come to tell you this after¬ 
noon,” answered the lady. “In a way that you will 


256 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


understand and enjoy, I am sure. But I must 
count on your help, too.” 

Then, in the simplest language at her command, 
Mrs. Keith explained to the poor Italian girl the 
arrangements, now fully completed, for a better 
home, and a fuller measure of comfort therein for 
the coming winter. Beatrice could hardly believe 
her senses. Mrs. Keith readily obtained her promise 
to say nothing of the new arrangement to her 
father until the building should be made ready 
to be moved, as it would be very shortly. The 
heart-to-heart talk lasted until the shadows began 
to lengthen in the little room, and then, leaving the 
occupant of the cheerless home with bright, dry 
eyes, and a far more hopeful heart than she had had 
at her coming, Mrs. Keith recalled her promise to 
be at the Leightons’ at five, and hurried away. 
She met the small “Mafia”—as Don persisted in 
calling the Giovanni brood—at the door, coming 
noisily in from an afternoon in the street; and, 
giving them a handful of pennies to buy cakes at 
the corner grocery on the street below them, she 
went on her way to her later appointment. 

In the Leightons’ handsome library, where they 
might be secure from interruption, she found the 
members of the Helping Hand Mission eagerly 
waiting the unfolding of her secret. 

“It’s something awfully solemn,” whispered 


THE GIOVANNIS' THANKSGIVING 257 


Jessica to Marjorie, under cover of the pleasant 
greetings of the others. “I never knew gramsie 
to look like that unless she had something tremen¬ 
dous on her mind!” 

Jessica was quite right. Mrs. Keith’s womanly- 
heart had been stirred to its depths by what she 
had heard and seen that afternoon. Though 
her western experiences had accustomed her to the 
sight of comparative poverty, the conditions pre¬ 
vailing in the Giovanni home, located so near 
the abodes of wealth, were a revelation to her, 
and in her fairness of mind she resented these con¬ 
ditions. 

She was not long, therefore, in unburdening her 
mind. Having congratulated the possessor of the 
new birthday, and replied to the merry greetings 
of the rest, she settled herself in the big, easy chair 
Kitty brought forward, and drawing from her hand¬ 
bag her tatting shuttle, “to point her remarks,” 
as Jessica said, she began. Without any prelimina¬ 
ries, she rehearsed the scene through which she had 
passed just before coming to them. The sight of 
the happy, care-free girls, children of luxurious 
homes with every normal wish gratified, coupled 
with the memory of what she had heard and seen 
within the hour, gave her added eloquence. Why 
should they have so much, and that poor girl, in 
her need, so little? Before she had finished her 


258 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

graphic word-picture of conditions at the Giovanni 
home there were tears in more than one pair of bright 
eyes. 

“I am very glad I feel so well acquainted already 
with the Helping Handers/' she concluded, glancing 
around over the quiet group, “for I know there is 
not one heart here this afternoon that does not 
ache with mine over poor Beatrice's troubles, and 
not one pair of hands that will not work cheerfully 
in odd minutes, until her more serious difficulties 
are relieved." 

Marjorie was first to speak. 

“Tell us what we can do, Mrs. Keith," she 
begged, “and let us get to work at once. It seems 
so strange; but when we planned this ‘shower' 
for Kitty, we girls got to talking about our general 
uselessness, and carelessness, and hoped you would 
wake us up some way." 

“I have never thought girls were either useless 
or careless from choice," replied Mrs. Keith. “But 
they often fail to do, because their attention has 
not been called to the outside duty, as we might 
call it, and because their own pleasures or duties 
crowd out the less obvious ones." 

“You are mighty nice to look at it in that way, 
Mrs. Keith," said Hazel. “But you are smothering 
the truth. Every one of us knows, and has known 
for some time, just what kind of a life that poor 


THE GIOVANNIS’ THANKSGIVING 259 


Italian girl has to lead; and while any one of us 
would have been glad to have it otherwise, we have 
been too indifferent to put out a hand to help her. ,, 

“Well, there’s nothing like knowing our short¬ 
comings, Hazel,” remarked Marjorie, “or being 
told of them in an upright, downright fashion. So, 
if Mrs. Keith has some plan for us to help her carry 
out, as I imagine she has, I would like somebody 
to move that we resolve ourselves into ten pairs 
of Helping Handers to do as she wishes. Though 
I doubt if my mother will give her consent to my 
going near Pietro’s domicile. She is as afraid of 
Italian microbes as I am of a mouse.” 

“It will not be necessary for you to go to their 
house at present,” replied Mrs. Keith, and before 
it is I think you will not recognize the place. Mr. 
Cameron has a discarded storehouse which I have 
obtained his consent to add to Pietro’s house. It 
is to be fitted up into two comfortable rooms, a 
kitchen and a living-room. The laddies of Donald’s 
manual-training class will remodel it. Before it 
is moved I shall call on you Helping Handers to 
ransack your garrets for discarded furniture, any 
of which, I imagine, will be better than what the 
Giovannis possess at present. 

“Just now, I shall make no more demand on your 
time or patience than to ask you to forego the 
pleasures of your Saturday vacation for a couple 


260 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


of weeks, and meet with Mrs. Cameron and myself 
to help replenish the little Giovannis’ wardrobe. 
It is sadly lacking in comfortable garments for the 
coming winter and I am certain you can each 
interest your respective mothers to the extent of 
giving you cast-off or out-grown clothes that can 
be made over to meet their needs. I have also 
quite a little new material promised, which we will 
make up. So, if you wish to resolve yourselves 
into a temporary sewing circle of ten, we will work 
something larger than doilies with our needles. 
One thing more, dear girls, I wish to say nobody is 
under obligation to take part in this work, if she does 
not find it easy or convenient to do so. I am sure 
there will be enough volunteers to put it through 
in a short time at the farthest; for I shall not stop 
until the Giovanni tribe is warm for the winter.” 

Kitty Leighton rose suddenly. 

“I move you, Madame President,” she said, “that 
Mrs. Keith be tendered the position of Honorary 
President of this club during her stay in Cleveland; 
and that we, as a club, pledge ourselves to work 
under her leadership in any way she may see fit 
to use us.” 

Ignoring the gentle protest which came from their 
visitor, Marjorie promptly put the question, and it 
was carried by a chorus of “ayes,” and a vigorous 
clapping of hands. 


THE GIOVANNIS’ THANKSGIVING 261 


“That motion makes me feel as though I have 
just been made queen of an unlimited monarchy,” 
said Mrs. Keith, when she was allowed to speak. 
“I do not see how I can do less than accept its 
honors, with the promise that I shall try not to 
exceed my authority. Your really overwhelming 
acceptance of my plan is most grateful to me, and 
will be appreciated still more by those for whom 
we labor.” 

“We have a fund, Mrs. Keith,” suggested Mabel, 
“which might be used for more material, if neces¬ 
sary. We girls pay dues of ten cents a month, 
which amounts to quite a sum in the course of a year. 
As we have not been very active in dispensing it the 
past summer, I think there is quite a sum in our 
treasury.” 

“Perhaps you would do better to keep that for 
an emergency fund for Christmas time,” replied 
Mrs. Keith. “What is needed more than anything 
else, at present, is willing hands to use a needle.” 

A few general arrangements were completed, and 
the Helping Handers went to their homes in a very 
different mood, it is just to them to say, than that 
in which they had come together for a social after¬ 
noon. Mrs. Cameron had stopped for her mother, 
with the car, but Jessica preferred to walk, and she 
and Marjorie strolled home together. 

“Wasn’t that the funniest ending to a party that 


262 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


you ever experienced, kid?” asked Marjorie, after 
they had separated from the others at the Sheldon 
corner. “Some surprise all along the line. I feel 
as solemn as though I had been to church 1” 

“I never knew anybody that could get more 
awfully in earnest over people like the Giovannis 
than grandmother can,” replied Jessica, thought¬ 
fully. “She makes you feel, somehow, as though 
you must do something for them, or you would 
not dare to say your prayers at night. She was 
talking about the Lord’s Prayer the other night, and 
she said some people pray, 'Thy kingdom come on 
earth,’ every night of their lives; but they never 
do anything to help to make it come true.” 

“I had never thought about it that way, either,” 
admitted Marjorie. “What about our painting 
lesson Saturday? I suppose it will have to be laid 
aside for the sewing bee, tool” 

“No, gramsie said we were to have it at nine- 
thirty in the morning, if that would suit you. 
But I hope everyone will come in the afternoon 
to sew, for I can’t help feeling that our letting those 
Giovannis go so long that way is a sort of slam on 
our neighborhood; and I want to get them off my 
mind.” 

“Oh, we’ll all come,” responded Marjorie, as she 
turned the corner and waved "good-bye” to Jessica. 
“Even if we didn’t care for that dirty tribe, which 


THE GIOVANNIS’ THANKSGIVING 263 


we do now, I hope, we’d all get good and busy for 
your grandmother’s sake.” 

The ball of mission work once started, it was 
wonderful how rapidly it rolled. Not only every 
one of the club members, but five volunteers of 
mammas and big sisters were on hand in Mrs. 
Cameron’s sewing-room on the following Saturday— 
“an overflow meeting,” as Marjorie remarked. 
As Mrs. Keith was provided with the length, 
breadth, and thickness of all the young Giovannis, 
and with a small bundle of paper patterns, it was 
also wonderful how fast the partly worn garments 
brought in by the members, as well as the big bundle 
of new material which had been paid for by Mr. 
Cameron and a few of his neighbors, grew into 
warm garments of varying sizes. Three of the busy 
girl workers looked with special pride on their share 
of the afternoon labors—twelve pairs of warm 
stockings, all mended, as Jessica expressed it, 
“with neatness and despatch.” 

It was decided by a committee of the older ones 
that the new house was to be rebuilt and furnished 
on its present site, and moved to its new location 
afterward. Accordingly, on the next Saturday 
morning, shortly after daylight, there was an inva¬ 
sion of Mr. Cameron’s yard by a small army of Man¬ 
ual students, headed by a keen-eyed, alert young 
man of twenty-five years. This force of workmen 


264 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


took possession of the old storehouse, and before 
night it was reconstructed within and without. 

Not wishing to take any chances on her forces 
diminishing, Mrs. Keith and her daughter served 
luncheon to the busy workmen in the Cameron 
dining-room. Jessica and Marjorie, their painting 
lesson finished, proudly added themselves to the 
kitchen force, making most acceptable waiters. 
Not a boy “flunked,” until, just at sunset, the last 
nail was driven and the teacher declared the work 
completed. It is safe to say some of the boys had 
probably done the hardest day’s work of their fives. 

The house had been divided into two rooms, which 
were ceiled throughout. Several windows and a 
couple of doors had been added; and a plain, but 
roomy and attractive, porch converted the barnfike 
structure into a very homey-looking dwelling. 

Promptly with the afternoon had come the sewing 
club, with still larger accessions of interested workers. 
Garments which had been taken home to be com¬ 
pleted were returned finished. Additions were 
made which had been overlooked at the previous 
meeting. And the great basketful of clothing, 
which was to be taken to its destination in time for 
a Thanksgiving surprise, was a source of much 
satisfaction to the girl workers, as they inspected 
it and chattered over it before leaving the Cameron 
home that evening. 


THE GIOVANNIS’ THANKSGIVING 265 


Mrs. Keith’s arm went lightly about Marjorie’s 
waist as she still stood after the others had departed, 
looking thoughtfully at the array. 

“Which is more fun, going to a Saturday matinee, 
or sewing for your neighbors?” she asked archly; 
and for answer Marjorie turned suddenly and flung 
her arms about her questioner’s neck. 

“Do you know what I was thinking, Mrs. Keith?” 
she asked. 

“No; but you looked so very serious, for you, 
that I think I should like to know.” 

“Well,” answered the girl soberly, “I was thinking 
what an utterly selfish, hard-hearted set of girls 
we were, until you came here and showed us our 
shortcomings in such a beautiful way. And I 
don’t think I shall want to go to another matinee, 
until I know that there is not another cold, half- 
starved child in Cleveland!” 

Mrs. Keith bent to kiss the earnest face upturned 
to hers. 

“Matinees are all right in their place, dear, and 
it will be many years, if ever, before there will be 
no poverty to relieve in your beautiful city, Margie. 
But I am sure you will not regret any self-denial 
your part in this work may have cost you, when 
you see the reception of your Helping Handers’ 
good deed next week. The text which may oftenest 
occur to each one of you might well be, ‘She hath 


266 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


done what she could/ for such generous response 
to an appeal for helpfulness was never known to me 
before. And now, as you are to take dinner with 
Jessica, we have just time to run down to Pietro’s, 
and notify him of the change which is about to be 
made for the comfort of his flock. Mr. Hall tells 
me that the house is all ready to be moved, but 
I think we will put in the furnishings first.” 

“May I really go with you?” cried Marjorie. 
“Oh, won’t that be jolly! I can’t think of anything 
I would like better! Won’t it be funny to see how 
surprised he will be?” 

Mrs. Keith did not answer, but calling Jessica she 
set out with the two girls. Beatrice had kept her 
secret well, and “surprised” Pietro certainly was. 
The family were all at home, sitting over a very 
scanty supper of black bread, boiled macaroni, and 
stale fruit. Mrs. Keith at once made known the 
object of her call. 

“I have just run in to tell you, Mr. Giovanni,” 
she said, “that Mr. Pantello has bought a new 
house for you. He will have it moved early next 
week, and set in front of this one, which you can 
still use for sleeping rooms, after he has made some 
changes in them.” 

The poor Italian did not understand. 

“I cannot pay for more house!” he exclaimed. 
“I cannot now but pay the rent—it is so much— 


THE GIOVANNIS’ THANKSGIVING 267 


and a new house, it would be more, much-a more/’ 

“There will be no rent to pay at all,” assured Mrs. 
Keith. “Your neighbors and friends have arranged 
with Mr. Pantello that you are to have the use of 
this place, and the two lots next to it, for a year 
without rent; and the new house will have such 
things in it as you will need. This will give you 
all you earn, for a while, to feed your family. See, 
I have brought you the lease,” taking a folded paper 
from her muff, “which you should keep in some 
safe place, or let Mr. Cameron keep for you. It 
says you are to have the free use of this place until 
a year from next January. Perhaps by that time, 
since you are so saving and work so hard, you may 
be able to buy a little home of your own.” 

Still half dazed, Pietro reached out his hand and 
took the paper she extended. Then he broke forth 
into a torrent of grateful speech—a broken mixture 
of English and his mother-tongue—and a moment 
later turned his back upon the trio, and burst into 
tears! 

Mrs. Keith turned to Beatrice, whose face was 
glowing with a joy that transfigured it. After a 
few pleasant words for her and the others, she drew 
her companions outside, and the three walked some 
distance in silence. Marjorie’s eyes were bright 
with tears, but she broke the silence at last by say¬ 
ing impetuously, “I never want to see anyone sur- 


268 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


prised that way again, as long as I live! I don’t 
know how I could think it would be funnyJ” 

“There are more tragedies than comedies in such 
lives as those of the Giovannis,” replied Mrs. Keith 
gravely, “when we take pains to look behind the 
curtain.” 

“I never realized before how much good people 
can do with a little money,” remarked Jessica. 
“And brains,” she added. 

“And a desire to be of service,” said Mrs. Keith. 
“You girls are realizing the truth of the divine 
declaration that ‘it is more blessed to give than to 
receive/ ” 

The following Monday there was a great ran¬ 
sacking of garrets and storerooms for furniture for 
the new house. Once the entire neighborhood was 
interested, it was wonderful what a serviceable col¬ 
lection of useful articles were gathered at short 
notice, and how a half-day with paint and varnish 
put the donations in harmony with one another. 
Mrs. Keith herself supervised the furnishing of the 
room intended for the joint kitchen and dining¬ 
room. Every article in it was selected for the es¬ 
pecial use of the young housekeeper, who was to 
receive a fresh inspiration for cleanliness and order 
in its spick-and-span tidiness. 

The new house was moved the following day, and, 
as soon as the family could vacate the old house. 


THE GIOVANNIS’ THANKSGIVING 269 


the proprietor, true to his promise, had the rooms 
rearranged to make three comfortable sleeping 
rooms. 

A short time before dark, on the evening preceding 
Thanksgiving, the Helping Handers, with Mrs. 
Keith in the lead, and the “Boys’ Auxiliary” bring¬ 
ing up the rear, invaded the Italian’s home. With 
the boys to manage the great baskets of clothing 
and of needed provisions, the girls popped gayly 
in and proceeded to take possession. Paying no 
attention to Pietro’s broken American protest, they 
put him in a corner and held him there, while others 
of the party speedily emptied a well-filled basket 
upon the table. Assembling the astonished children 
around it, they led the father to the head of the table, 
while Mrs. Keith waved her hand for silence and 
made a little speech. 

“We are put into the world to help one another, 
Mr. Giovanni,” she began gently, “and as these 
girls had but little to do they wished to help you 
and Beatrice, who is just about of their age. The 
warm clothes they have brought you for your mother¬ 
less little ones have been made by their own kind 
hands. They wish you to take them and use them 
through the cold winter, feeling that they, too, are 
your warm friends, who will be glad to help you 
more at any time. We will bid you good night 
now, and hope you will enjoy your new home, and 


270 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

what we have done, as much as we have enjoyed 
doing it.” 

Poor Mr. Giovanni tried to speak; he opened his 
lips, but the words refused to come. When the ad¬ 
dition to his uncomfortable little home had been 
put in place, already furnished with plain but sub¬ 
stantial furniture from the homes of his well-to-do 
neighbors, he had gone to Mr. Cameron and poured 
out thanks both profuse and earnest. But tonight, 
as he saw the smiling faces of his children, and took 
in the possibilities of the great basket of clothing, 
this last measure of generous kindness was too 
much for his feelings. He could make no response 
to the w r ords of this kindly woman who had realized 
for him, in so short a time, his only ambition 
home and comfort for his motherless children. 

Mrs. Keith saw and understood. Beckoning to 
the group, she went quietly out, closing the door 
herself softly behind the last one. Outside, her 
eyes swept with a tender glance over the circle of 
half-tearful but happy faces, turned to hers in the 
soft glow of the Thanksgiving twdlight. 

“My blessed Helping Handers!” she breathed, 
tenderly. “Never doubt that of you it was said 
long ago, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
the least of these My brethren, ye have done it 
unto Me.’ ” 


Chapter XIII 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS” 

The flutter and excitement of the Thanksgiving 
festivities were scarcely past when the Cameron 
children began to look forward to the coming Christ¬ 
mas holidays. This anniversary was now but two 
weeks distant, and the note of preparation for it 
had been sounded for some time. It was part of 
the unwritten law of the household that there 
were to be no “peekings” or questionings at this 
time, and the rule was strictly observed by all but 
Harry. With his faith in the good patron saint still 
unquestionably firm, and with encouragement from 
Don and Jessica, for the fun of it, there were some¬ 
times absurd complications. 

“What you makin’, dranma?” he queried one 
evening, as grandma’s fingers slid swiftly in and out 
of a somewhat shapeless tangle of bright wool. 
Bent on counting stitches at the time, Mrs. Keith 
answered abstractedly, “A pair of bedroom slippers, 
Harry, woolly ones, like Jessica’s, to slip on at bed¬ 
time, you know.” 

“You goin’ to wear ’em?” 

271 


272 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“No, dear; I am going to send them to a 
friend of mine out in Kansas, for a Christmas 
present.” 

“You goin' to be Santy Taus, dranma?” pursued 
the small questioner, so earnestly that grandma 
suddenly waked up. 

“Oh, bless you no, darling; but Santa is so busy 
this time of the year, and grandma's friend is grown 
up and has five little folks for Santa to look after, 
so I shall send her these slippers when I get them 
done, to tell her that I love her yet, and think of 
the things she likes. She was once a little girl who 
went to school to me, and I taught her to read 
and write.” Noticing that Jessica was listening 
interestedly, she added, “This friend was very fond 
of pretty trifles when she was a girl, and her mother 
indulged her tastes in that direction as long as she 
was at home; but she is the wife of a ranchman 
now, with a number of little ones, and has but 
little leisure for making such things, and not any 
too much money to buy them.” 

The question of Santa Claus' personality seemed 
safely sidetracked for the time; but a few days later 
Jessica turned Harry’s ideas topsy-turvy again, by 
a careless remark. 

“Do you s’pose Santy Taus will bwing Jacky 
a Trismus present?” he asked, as the two sat to¬ 
gether in the garage, where Jackie had his winter 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS’ 


273 


quarters, watching him enjoy a dish of bread and 
milk. 

“We’ll have to get him some lettuce at the hot¬ 
house,” answered his sister, “and give him some 
extra fine cabbage leaves. Maybe we might dig 
down under the snow, and find him some grass 
that is not quite spoiled yet.” 

“Why don’t Santy Taus bwing him dust what 
he wants?” insisted the child. “Mamma says he 
always knows.” 

“Maybe he will,” responded Jessica, catching him 
in her arms, and bestowing a kiss on the red lips. 
“What would you like him to bring you, Muggins?” 

“Anuvver Jill,” came the prompt reply. Harry’s 
heart had been very sore since the chilly November 
morning when the children, coming to the garage 
to feed their pets, had found Lady Jill unresponsive 
to their morning greetings, two baby bunnies, also 
still and cold, nestled against her soft fur. 

“They’re sure all gone to rabbit-heaven,” Don 
had murmured sadly, and had gone hastily away 
to make arrangements for their burial. That 
had been a month before, and papa had predicted 
the same dire fate for Jackie before the winter was 
past, but though he seemed lonely without his 
mate he was still thriving. 

Donald had transferred his claim in the rabbit 
to Harry at once, for his small brother’s grief was 


274 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


pitiable to witness. If tender care could avail, 
Jackie seemed likely to survive to welcome the 
spring. No little animal could receive more careful 
attention than Donald bestowed on Harry’s pet, 
and his kindness was having its effect in the added 
devotion of the child to his older brother. 

“I wote a letter to Santy Taus, and papa put it 
in the post office, to have him bwing me a mate for 
Jackie,” continued the little boy. 

“I don’t believe it will do any good, Harry boy, 
for Santa Claus could hardly find you a jack rabbit 
this time of year. Grandma got yours in the sum¬ 
mertime you know.” 

“But he might buy one somewhere.” 

“I am afraid not. Papa would buy you one for 
Christmas, if he could get it, and not wait for 
Santa Claus to bring it.” 

This remark evidently set a new train of thought 
in motion in Harry’s active mind. 

“Mamma,” he asked, later, as he watched his 
mother run up the seams in his new 7 flannel sleep¬ 
ing-bag, “Does Santy Taus bwing everybody 
evwything they want?” 

“Bless you no, Harry! He couldn’t do that, if 
he had twice as much money and time for Christ¬ 
mas gifts. Why?” 

“ ’Cause I asted Don what he wanted Santy to 
bwing him, and he said a dreat bid book of picsers 


CHRISTMAS “ GOODFELLOWS’ 


275 


of houses, that’s down town—dust ‘bones’ of houses, 
like Don makes when he draws. He said he wanted 
that worse’n anyfing; and I thought if Santy Taus 
didn’t know about it you might take the pennies 
from my bank and det it for him.” 

Mrs. Cameron’s eyes beamed a world of mother- 
love on the upturned face, but she only answered, 
quietly, “I thought you wanted those pennies to 
get you some new tin soldiers, Harry.” 

“I did, but I’d rawer Don’d have ’em for a book 
of house picsers.” 

His mother bent and kissed him. 

“You are a dear, kind boy, Harry, to think of 
Don; but I think Santa will bring him the book he 
wants without your pennies having to go for it.” 

Harry suddenly clapped his hand over his mouth. 

“Oh, I fordot!” he exclaimed. “Don told me not 
to tell anybody. I’m so sorry I fordot!” 

“Never mind,” comforted mamma. “I won’t 
tell anyone you told, and we’ll try to get word to 
Santa Claus about it before Christmas.” And 
Harry went away to his play to reflect seriously 
on this last statement. 

“What do you suppose you have put us Helping 
Handers up to doing now, you blessed grand¬ 
mother?” asked Jessica that night as she toasted 
her feet at grandmother’s fire before hopping into 
bed. 


276 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Nothing wrong, I hope, or nothing you do not 
wish to do,” in a tone of mock anxiety. “May I 
be enlightened?” 

“You are making us forget ourselves again, as 
you did when we gave up a matinee and a painting 
lesson to sew for your Italians,” laughed Jessica. 

“You might do a great deal of that sort of ‘for¬ 
getting yourselves/ ” replied Mrs. Keith, seriously, 
“without injury to your moral well-being. Will 
you explain?” 

“Well, we talked it all over at Marjorie’s last 
night, and we have agreed not to get a single Christ¬ 
mas present this year for any one outside of our 
own folks; and, with the money we save that way, 
to get some really needy person the thing we think 
she would like best or need most.” 

“But where do I and the ‘making’ part come in?” 

“Why, you see,” she said, flushing shyly, “I was 
telling the girls about those slippers you were 
making for that friend who likes such things so well, 
but cannot have them easily. And then we talked, 
and concluded we would try this plan. Do you 
like it, gramsie?” 

“I think it is a charming one,” she answered, 
earnestly, “and I am proud to have been, even 
indirectly, the moving spirit of the thought. 

“I have often wondered why well-to-do people 
bestow such expensive gifts on their friends and 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS' 


277 


acquaintances at the holiday season, and, as often, 
ignore altogether the claims of the poor and needy 
who should be remembered at this time. My 
Helping Handers will love each other just as much 
for this mutual self-sacrifice, and when you reflect 
that your efforts have made ten other people happy, 
you will not regret this change in your usual Christ¬ 
mas plan. It is not a new one to me, but is being 
followed more and more by sensible people who see 
the folly of extensive present-giving. Then, too, 
you will no doubt find much pleasure in securing 
a suitable 'subject’ for your Christmas remem¬ 
brance, and in finding one will doubtless find more. 
Have you any one in view?” 

Jessica hesitated a moment, then answered, "Yes, 
gramsie, I have. It is that old lady Jamison who 
lives in the block just east of us. I know her daugh¬ 
ter that she lives with gives her everything she 
needs; but the other day, when I was coming 
home from Margie’s, I had a couple of hothouse 
roses which Margie had slipped from the dining¬ 
room (they had had a swell guest for dinner), and 
as I came past Mrs. Jamison’s she was sitting in 
the window, and she looked so longingly at my 
roses that I ran in and gave them to her. 

"She cried, gramsie, she actually did, and then 
she laughed a little. She said she loved flowers, 
especially roses; but her daughter didn t care for 


278 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


flowers around to muss up the house, and her rheu¬ 
matism didn’t let her get out much, and so she 
seldom saw any. I would like to carry her a whole 
bunch of American Beauties Christmas morning, 
just for her to look at until they spoil. Would 
that be a silly thing to do? I have two dollars 
for my special 'subject/ as you called her. That 
would buy quite a few, wouldn’t it?” 

"With a small reinforcement from gramsie’s 
purse, it will buy enough to make a flower-loving 
woman’s Christmas a very happy one,” was the 
satisfactory reply. 

This would be Mrs. Keith’s first Christmas with 
her daughter since her marriage. Her presence and 
merry good humor lent an unusual zest to the prep¬ 
arations for the coming anniversary, and her sug¬ 
gestions and advice were in demand by every mem¬ 
ber of the family; her many '‘experiences” enabling 
her to be of infinite service. 

She had brought with her a photograph of a rustic 
bridge near Mrs. Cameron’s early home in Kansas; 
and with her assistance Jessica was making a very 
creditable copy of it in water color for her mother’s 
Christmas gift. The young artist had spared no 
pains to deserve the extra time she had given to 
her art work by close attention to her lessons at 
their appointed hours; and when her school report 
came in at the end of the second quarter it was 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS’ 


279 


a surprise to everyone but grandmother, who had 
seen much of the girl student’s efforts, and had 
aided them so intelligently that Jessica’s gratitude 
was unbounded. 

She slipped the report into her papa’s hand after 
the family had gone to the library for the evening, 
the day it was received. He looked it over care¬ 
fully, then turned to her with much show of indig¬ 
nation. 

“I have already received an intimation that you 
have astonished your family by bringing home a 
report without a ‘medium’ on it. May I inquire 
what you mean by robbing your brother of his 
prestige in the matter of reports, in such an out¬ 
spoken—no, outwritten —fashion? I shall see that 
his wounded feelings are soothed by a double por¬ 
tion of Christmas turkey. As for you, I think that 
your name should be cancelled on all Santa Claus’ 
orders for such an unheard-of proceeding.” 

There was a suspicious brightness in papa’s eyes 
as be returned the card, and Jessica saw, as she had 
not seen before, how much interested he was in 
her advancement, and how proud of her recent prog¬ 
ress in her studies. 

“You should give grandmother the credit, papa,” 
put in Donald. “She has kept at the ‘family half¬ 
wit’ [Jessica had given herself this name] from rosy 
morn to dewy eve, with the same old text, ‘Get 


280 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


knowledge, and with all thy wisdom get under¬ 
standing/ or words to that effect, until even a rock 
would have absorbed instruction!” 

“The seed was sown in good ground,” affirmed 
grandmother, “and if I read the signs aright no 
one is more delighted than ‘the family bookworm/ 
[This was Jessica’s nickname for her brother.] that 
he is obliged to look sharply this winter to his edu¬ 
cational laurels.” 

Donald bowed gravely in grandmother’s direction. 

“Thank you for crediting me with such a generous 
disposition! I will confess that the reflections cast 
on the family occasionally by the low rating, edu¬ 
cationally speaking, of one of its members have 
been more or less painful to some of her more am¬ 
bitious relatives; and this marked improvement 
is—is—mother, will you please hand me that 
eraser?” 

“Well,” rejoined Mr. Cameron, when the laugh 
had subsided, “I am loth to change the subject, 
but I have been expecting for several days to be 
held up for Christmas funds—donations, if you 
prefer—and I have about concluded to invite the 
fatal blow. How much will it require this year, Jes¬ 
sica, to remember the dear five hundred friends? I 
need scarcely add that in the light of the recent 
rise of educational stock I am inclined to be extremely 
liberal.” 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS' 


281 


Jessica laughed gayly at her father’s comments. 

“I am making all my Christmas gifts this year, 
papa. I have them nearly all done already, so I 
will not need money to buy with.” 

“Making them? And don’t 'makings’ cost any¬ 
thing?” 

“Not nearly so much as 'buyings/ ” returned 
Jessica, demurely. “Then, too, as Don and I 
have not been attending many entertainments this 
fall, we have saved quite a good deal of our allow¬ 
ance,” with a roguish look at her brother, who 
grinned responsively. 

Mr. Cameron whistled softly. 

“My son notified me some time ago that he would 
not require his usual Christmas 'hand-out/ for 
goodness knows what reason. 'Making his own/ 
too, I presume. My family is a continual surprise 
to me. Mother, I am inclined to lay much of this 
irregularity of action at your door. It seems to be 
more pronounced this year than usual. I notice, 
also, that my daughter has caught the contagion 
of your excessive industry. Have you been giving 
her a few lessons in Scotch thrift, also, and the 
conservation of time, as well as 'readin’, ’ritin’, and 
’rithmetic’?” This he said as he watched Jessica’s 
slim fingers shaping the cover of a gayly colored 
worsted ball intended for Harry’s Christmas stock¬ 
ing. 


282 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“According to the latest advices your son and 
daughter have, all unknowingly, joined the Royal 
Order of Goodfellows, ,, answered his mother. “This 
necessitates a change in their usual Christmas 
program, which may be something of a disap¬ 
pointment to their intimate friends, but which is a 
favorable one for your purse and their own holiday 
happiness ” 

The entire family looked somewhat mystified. 

“Who or what is ‘The Royal Order of Good- 
fellows/ gramsie?” asked Jessica, presently. “If 
we belong to a secret society we want to know it, 
don’t we, Don?” 

“False accusation!” declared Donald, concisely. 

“In a large city out West,” continued Mrs. Keith, 
“there has been for several years an organization 
of well-to-do business men, calling themselves 
‘Goodfellows,’ who make it a point to hunt up some 
particularly needy or deserving persons or families, 
and see to it individually that their needs are supplied 
at the holiday season. The number of Goodfellows 
has yearly grown larger, and last year they co¬ 
operated with the mayor and the donations ran into 
the thousands of dollars. The motor cars of wealthy 
men, with the owners themselves as chauffeurs, 
dispensed this holiday cheer in many instances, and 
several hundred families were made happy and 
comfortable at the Christmas season. Clothing, 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS’ 


283 


provisions, and toys were carried to the homes, 
and it was the proud boast of the city, after Christ¬ 
mas had passed, that, so far as known, not one poor 
or destitute person in the city had been overlooked.” 

“That would be a good scheme to set in motion 
on a small scale in our office,” said Mr. Cameron, 
thoughtfully. “I have in mind one subject, already. 
Meyers, our janitor, had his foot crushed early in 
the fall, by a box of castings. As he has quite 
a large family, and his wife had been sick, we have 
made up among the office force several little purses 
which we have had some trouble in getting him to 
accept. He is about again, now, with the aid of a 
crutch, and with the help of his oldest boy is again 
on the job. But if you are chief of this royal order, 
mother, as I imagine you are, I think I must take 
you down to the Meyers’ home some morning, to 
find out just what is the best Christmas help we 
could offer. They are both too proud to accept help 
at any other time, without protest.” 

“If your office force is half as enthusiastic in the 
matter of giving as Jessica’s club was in the case 
of the ‘Mafia,’ it will give me much pleasure to assist 
in pulling the strings for their Christmas cheer,” 
replied his mother. 

“As my family is so independent this year in the 
matter of finances, I can be unusually generous my¬ 
self, in the way of outside donations; and as our 


284 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


office force numbers about twenty, I think I can 
assure you liberal contributions. This will give you 
and the motor a job on Christmas eve, Don,” he 
added, “as chief dispenser of the—What did you 
call them, mother?—Goodfellows?” 

“That will be 0. K.,” agreed Donald, “if I can 
dump the stuff outside, toot my horn, and fly. 
Since Thanksgiving eve I draw the line at delivering 
my bounty, or anyone else’s for that matter, inside 
the door and waiting for thanks to be returned 
for it.” 

“By the way, with the janitor’s case disposed of, 
what are we to do for our Italian band in the way 
of Christmas cheer?” inquired mamma. “Or shall 
we rest on our laurels so far as they are concerned, 
and leave them to chance and the tender charity 
of the Mission Sunday School?” 

“The word ‘charity’ was forbidden by grand¬ 
mother long ago in connection with our Italians,” 
remarked Jessica. “We had a special meeting of 
the club after school last night to consider this very 
question. We decided we must do something, but 
did not make up our minds exactly what.” 

“I think we ought to put them up a Christmas 
tree,” declared Don. “Nothing on it but goodies 
and pretties and knick-knacks—just a small one— 
so they won’t begin to think that everything we do 
for them is plain charity.” 


CHRISTMAS ‘‘ GOODFELLOWS’ 


285 


“That is a good idea, Don, and one that would 
be easy to carry out,” agreed Mrs. Keith. “It 
can be made ready two or three days beforehand, 
and set aside, so we would not be so crowded with 
work at the last minute. Why not use your club 
evening for the decorating? You might propose 
it to the others tomorrow, Jessica, and be sure 
to give the boy ‘Goodfellows’ a hand in the 
game.” 

Saturday morning Mrs. Keith presented herself 
at the breakfast table in street costume. 

“Is not this the morning we are to interview the 
janitor’s lady, to ascertain her Christmas needs?” 
she inquired. 

“I declare, I had forgotten all about Meyers!” 
exclaimed Mr. Cameron. “I spoke to a number of 
the force about him, however, and they are ready 
to be at least accessory to the ‘Goodfellow’ stunt. 
Donald, you may take grandmother and me down 
in the car, and then you can use it afterward for 
your shopping, if you wish.” 

The morning was a perfect one, crisp and sharp, 
but sunny; and there were so many errands that 
Donald and the motor were kept busy until lunch¬ 
eon time. 

Before their return home Mrs. Keith made her 
report at the office—not a very cheerful one, how¬ 
ever—and the interest it awakened among the office 


286 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


workers showed that the Christmas spirit had in¬ 
fected even the business houses. 

“They seem to be fairly well supplied with cloth¬ 
ing, except shoes,” she reported, “but they are 
short on bedding, and have but little ahead in the 
house to eat. It seems Mrs. Meyers was sick in 
fruit season, and failed to secure her winter fruit 
as usual. As he has not been at work until recently 
they have had little to buy provisions with.” 

Business was suspended for a few precious min¬ 
utes, and it was arranged that a donation of canned 
fruit should be gathered from the homes of the 
force, and a collection taken to buy several pairs of 
warm blankets. Arrangements were made to have 
the supplies brought to the office the day preceding 
Christmas, and there was almost a strife among 
the employes as to who should deliver the goods. 

Much to Don’s delight, the matter of delivery was 
finally left to him and his boy friends on the avenue. 
Before the arrival of the appointed time, such an 
accumulation of necessaries had been donated for 
the janitor there was scarcely room for all in the 
motor car. 

Donald’s plan for a Christmas tree for Pietro’s 
flock was enthusiastically received by the club 
members, who invaded the Cameron home in a 
noisy “committee of the whole” the following even¬ 
ing for instructions from their honorary president. 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELWWS' 


287 


Mrs. Keith had evidently had extended experience 
in the matter of Christmas trees, for within an hour 
the work of preparing this one was so systematized 
and divided up among the willing workers that it 
seemed—as Marjorie observed—“half done already.” 

The “Boys’ Auxiliary,” as Don laughingly dubbed 
his mates on the avenue, offered to furnish the tree, 
and three days before Christmas it was ready to be 
transported to its destination. The Home Amuse¬ 
ment Club gave one entire evening to its arrange¬ 
ment, and a merry evening it surely was! The din¬ 
ing-room at the Cameron home was given over to 
the workers; and, with grandmother moving about 
among the busy groups, advising here and suggest¬ 
ing there, and Harry—who, for the first time was 
witnessing the growth of a Christmas tree—plung¬ 
ing about, wildly excited, in everybody’s way, it 
was a pleasant picture. 

So thought Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, as they sat 
together in the library, where they had full view of 
the young people through the open doors. 

“What makes you look so serious, Dick?” in¬ 
quired his wife, as she turned from her study of the 
merry decorators to surprise a grave look on her 
husband’s face. “Your face looks almost out of 
place in this holiday joy-fest.” 

“Then I will hasten to fix it over at once, Madge,” 
he smiled, soberly. “As nearly as I can trace my 


288 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


thoughts, I was returning silent thanks for the 
blessing that came to us last fall in the person of 
that nearly perfect woman yonder. Do you re¬ 
member my prophecy then, in regard to her and 
that bunch of youngsters?” 

Mrs. Cameron sighed deeply. 

“So well that I never look at her lately without 
wondering what we will all do without her when 
spring comes.” 

“Don’t cross your bridge until you reach it,” 
advised her husband, philosophically. “She will 
never leave us again for long. That sort of thing 
is the breath of life to her; and if you think you 
would miss her, what about Jessica? Mother is 
the lodestar of the child’s existence.” 

Mrs. Cameron’s eyes followed his glance, and took 
in the scene. The tree was practically completed, 
and Jessica was standing by her grandmother’s 
side, circled by her arm, the brown head tilted until 
it rested against the motherly shoulder. Their 
very attitude expressed the utmost love and confi¬ 
dence. 

“If it were anyone else, Dick, I should be insanely 
jealous of her. But when I reflect what her wonder¬ 
ful personality has done for our children these last 
few months, and for the other children also, I can 
only wonder and rejoice.” 

“Mamma, papa!” came Jessica’s gay voice from 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS” 289 

the next room, “come see our tree. It is all ready 
for your inspection and approval.” With a sudden 
swift glance at each other, which both understood, 
they obeyed. 

Jessica had fastened a shining Christmas angel, 
with outstretched, glittering wings, laid aside from 
the home tree of the previous year, in the very top 
of the pretty little cedar. As one and another 
brought their quota of gifts for its further decorar 
tion, the angel message of peace and good will 
seemed to breathe in the very air about them. 
The tree was a marvel of beauty. There were sub¬ 
stantial toys for the smallest boy, picture and 
storybooks chosen with an eye to quality, little 
articles of personal adornment for the two girls, 
and some gorgeous neckties and a warm cap for 
Tony, as well as a complete set of the best strings 
for his violin. There were apples and oranges galore, 
and strings of popcorn and red cranberries lent a 
vivid coloring to the tree. Here and there on its 
branches, in striking contrast to the gay toys and 
shining fruits, hung a number of long, brown rolls 
somewhat resembling cigars. These attracted Mr. 
Cameron’s attention, and he examined them with 
unfeigned curiosity. 

“I didn’t suppose this model bunch of kiddies 
would be guilty of tempting anyone to smoke, 
even at Christmas time,” he jested. “But if those 


290 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


are not cigars,” pinching one lightly with his fingers, 
“will somebody put me wise?” 

“Those are dollar williams, dad,” volunteered 
Don, “and their united aggregation means a new 
suit for Tony. They may be cigar-money,” with 
a swift glance in Frank King’s direction, “as they 
are all masculine contributions, ladies being barred. 
There’s room for one more—like an omnibus. 
Want to chip in?” 

“He ought to be required to, for that base insin¬ 
uation about our tempting Tony to smoke 1” de¬ 
clared Marjorie. “Let’s initiate him into the Royal 
Order of Goodfellows, and then he will have to I” 
Suddenly, as though by some prearranged under¬ 
standing, Mr. Cameron found himself the center of 
a circling, laughing group, who, with clasped hands, 
danced around him singing merrily: 

“With Saint Nick you are doubtless acquainted, 

For his name throughout Christendom’s known; 

But you may not be quite so familiar 
With the subjects that bow at his throne. 

His vassals are active and many, 

Their ranks are increasing each day, 

And, to let the world know what they’re doing, 

They sing as they pass on their way, 

Oh, we are the Christmas goodfellows, goodfellows, good- 
fellows, 

Oh, we are the Christmas goodfellows, 

Though we’re known as ‘That Avenue Gang.’ 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS 1 


291 


“To the halt and the lame and the needy 
We carry Saint Nicholas’ cheer. 

Go hunt up your purse and get busy, 

And don’t put it off till next year. 

If you’ve never known sorrow or sadness, 

If your pleasures seem frightfully tame, 

Come, learn a new measure of gladness, 

Get into the goodfellow game. 

Oh, we are the Cleveland goodfellows, goodfellows, good- 
fellows, 

We are Santa Claus’ Cleveland goodfellows, 

Though we’re known as ‘That Avenue Gang.’ ” 

“There’s nine more verses, papa,” cried Jessica, 
as the circle paused for breath. “Will you have 
the rest?” 

“I surrender!” he responded, when he could 
speak for laughter. “Nobody doubts that this 
aggregation means business. This is the most 
unique hold-up I ever experienced,” and putting 
his hand in his pocket he drew forth a crisp dollar 
bill. 

“Everybody comes across to the Goodfellows,” 
was Marjorie’s laughing acknowledgment, as she 
deftly wound this last donation with some dull, 
brown ribbon, and added it to the tree. “I have 
seen costlier Christmas trees than this,” she com¬ 
mented, as she took in the well-laden boughs with 
approving eyes, “but for downright swell and 
pretty I never saw its equal!” 

“There’s only one drawback about the whole 


292 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


affair,” began Jessica, and her voice was drowned 
in a chorus of, “What’s that?” from the others. 

“That we can’t be there, to see its reception. I 
am just consumed with desire to see Pietro unroll 
a few of those bogus cigars, and I do so want to 
see Tony and Carlo and little Guido fill themselves 
to the limit with nuts and candy without anybody 
to say ‘quit.’ I want to see Beatrice when she 
spies those cunning linen handkerchiefs which Kitty 
Leighton took from her own box and embroidered 
with a ‘B’ with her own—” 

“Oh, cut it out, Jessica,” interrupted Kitty. 
“But why couldn’t we all go down with it on Christ¬ 
mas morning, and sing a Christmas carol for them?” 

“I’ll bet you haven’t seen the sun rise since you 
were born I” jeered Claude. “You and Margie 
would make good, healthy subjects to stand around 
in the snow at daylight, warbling Christmas carols, 
with the thermometer hovering near the zero mark, 
wouldn’t you?” 

“I think it would be best to let the boys take it 
down late at night,” interposed Mrs. Keith, gently, 
‘after making arrangements with Pietro to receive 
it. You would wish the children to see it the very 
first thing in the morning. Mamma is going to 
have Nora roast a small turkey for them, and when 
I take it down, with a few additions for their Christ¬ 
mas dinner, as many of you as can do so might 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS' 


293 


go too. Or we might postpone your going till 
evening, and all go down for a few minutes, follow¬ 
ing Kitty’s suggestion of singing them a carol. 
You may be sure the children will not rob their tree 
of much of its beauty for a day, at least.” 

The latter plan was voted the better one, and the 
Helping Handers and their boy assistants reluc¬ 
tantly prepared to depart for home. 

“Speaking of matinees for late hours,” remarked 
Marjorie, mischievously, as she kissed Mrs. Keith 
“good-night,” just as the clock chimed the mid¬ 
night hour, “these Goodfellow jambourees have 
matinees beaten to a frazzle!” 

“This ‘goodfellow’ idea is spreading like a green 
bay tree!” asserted Don one morning. Certainly, 
in the few days now remaining before Christmas, 
its branches seemed to be pushing out from its 
avenue route into hitherto unreached localities 
where Christmas cheer was sorely needed. Other 
offices followed the example set by Mr. Cameron’s 
firm. Indeed, so many inquiries were made of the 
employees concerning their plan that Mr. Cameron 
declared, one day at luncheon, that they might as 
w T ell shut off business and give the remaining three 
days to the Goodfellow movement. 

“It’s highly contagious!” agreed Mrs. Keith, 
gayly. “If you could have been in Convention 
Hall in Kansas City last Christmas, at the municipal 


294 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Christmas tree, you would have enjoyed a revela¬ 
tion. It is time you sleepy eastern people are wak¬ 
ing up! You don’t know what an enjoyable time 
at Christmas means until you have belonged to the 
Goodfellows a year or two.” 

Christmas eve came at last, and all went to the 
early Sunday-school entertainment, in which Don 
and Jessica had a part in the program. Nine 
o’clock found every boy in the Avenue Gang, 
transformed into a temporary Santa Claus, lined 
up at Mr. Cameron’s office, with a motor car apiece, 
and it was nearly midnight before the volunteer 
messengers completed the work of distribution for 
the various business firms who had joined the Good- 
fellow order. 

When Donald took his seat at the breakfast table 
next morning, he was still too full of enthusiasm 
over the success of the evening’s outing to give due 
consideration to the gifts surrounding his plate: 
the signet ring from papa to offset the pretty pearl 
one which already adorned Jessica’s slim hand; the 
crocheted necktie of palest blue, his favorite color; 
the handsome sweater to match, which could have 
been wrought only by grandmother’s patience and 
skill; the portfolio of “bones” of houses—a book of 
studies in world-known architecture—which mamma 
had secured the same day she had received the tip 
from Harry as to what Don wanted for “Trismus.’ 


CHRISTMAS u GOODFELLOWS ,> 


295 


Its counterpart, a book of simple but excellent stud¬ 
ies in oil and water color, lay by Jessica’s plate. 
That happy mortal’s first waking glance had fallen 
on the picture of the mountain which had hung 
over grandmother’s desk since her coming, and which 
had possessed a deep charm for Jessica. It had 
been transferred to her own room over night, with 
a card containing grandmother’s Christmas greet¬ 
ing. 

“How did you know what would please me best 
of all?” asked Jessica, after the Christmas morning 
greetings were exchanged. 

“I have seen you give it so many loving looks, 
as they say we should do our flowers when we wish 
them to grow well, that I fancied the picture would 
be an inspiration to you, as the real mountain was 
to me when I was where I could see it every day.” 

Descending to the dining-room, they found Don¬ 
ald giving his father and mother a glowing account 
of his evening’s experiences. 

“I changed my mind about seeing the deliveries 
made,” he was saying. “We knocked at every door 
and shouted ‘Merry Christmas,’ and we found 
some at home every place we went. So we chucked 
the things inside as soon as the door was opened, 
and hiked out, singing our Goodfellow chorus as 
loud as we could yell, as we came away. We had 
so many thanks and blessings poured out on us, 


296 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


I am afraid it will make us sanctimonious for a 
whole year! It was sure some fun!” 

While Don rattled on, papa was solemnly exam¬ 
ining a couple of legal-looking documents which 
were connected by a ribbon, and which lay, one 
on his plate, and one on his wife's. 

“This seems to be a joint affair, Madge,” he 
ventured. “I dare you to open yours.” 

“After you,” she replied, laughing. “ 'Gentle¬ 
men first’ in this case.” 

“I may as well 'fess up,’ ” put in their mother, 
“that this is a Cleveland Christmas gift with a 
Kansas string affixed. I hope it will receive due con¬ 
sideration.” 

“ 'He either fears his fate too much,’ ” quoted Mr. 
Cameron, and unfolded the paper. It proved to 
be a deed, made out jointly to him and his wife, 
which made them owners of forty acres of land 
upon which were Mrs. Keith’s most valuable oil 
leases. He laid it down in bewilderment. 

“I have always had the highest opinion of your 
levelheadedness, mother,” he declared, “but, with 
all candor, I fear this Goodfellow movement has 
turned your brain.” 

“If it has, there is 'method in my madness,’ as 
you once remarked. Don’t you see, Dick, that 
I am unloading my responsibilities before advancing 
4>ld age gives them a chance to overwhelm me?” 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS’ 


297 


“I am much afraid mother is guilty of boosting 
for Kansas immigration 1” remarked Mrs. Cameron, 
who had been inspecting the papers. “With such 
inducements as these, the prospect for victims should 
not look discouraging to her.” 

“That’s just what I hoped you would say, Madge!” 
cried her mother, triumphantly. 

“This question is too serious to be considered 
on Christmas morning,” decided Mr. Cameron. 
“I am sorry I cannot return the value of your 
gift, mother,” taking her hand and slipping upon 
her finger a handsome diamond ring. “But when 
my ships come in from my oil-wells I may be able 
to reciprocate further. I know you do not wear 
rings,” with a glance at the hands unadorned save 
by the thin golden band on the third finger of her 
left hand, “but perhaps you will break over your 
rule occasionally in favor of this offering, which is 
a very slight expression of my appreciation of what 
you have been to me and mine since you came to 
us.” 

As papa was free for the day, the breakfast hour 
was extended; but directly it was over Jessica walked 
down the avenue to the handsome house where old 
Mrs. Jamison lived with her only daughter. Jessica 
found her alone in her own room, seated before an 
elegant breakfast. Her face lit up as she saw her 
young visitor. 


298 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“You’re such a 'shut-in/ Grandma Jamison,” 
said Jessica, after the first greetings were over, 
“that I have brought you something to look at, 
to make your Christmas a little more cheerful.” 

“The sight of your bright face alone would do 
that!” answered the “shut-in.” “It is kind of a young 
girl like you to leave her pleasures to remember an 
old woman like me, on this morning of all.” 

She caught her breath as Jessica shook the 
glorious wealth of Christmas roses from their 
mossy wrappings, and looked about her for some¬ 
thing in which to arrange them. 

“Let me have them, just for a little while,” 
begged the old lady, holding out her hands, and 
Jessica laid the fragrant mass in her arms, with 
a feeling of reverence as she noted the effect of 
her floral offering. 

“You will think I am a silly old woman, dearie,” 
she half sobbed, “but they take me back to the old 
home in New Hampshire that was nearly covered 
with roses. They were not such hothouse beauties 
as these, but sweetbriers and ramblers, and in the 
yard moss roses—all the old-fashioned kinds that 
I have not seen for many a year.” 

“You told me once that you lived in the moun¬ 
tains,” said Jessica, softly, “so grandmother sent 
you a book of New Hampshire stories that she 
thought you would like. There is a dear Christmas 


CHRISTMAS u GOODFELLOWS’ 


299 


story in it, about an old couple whose children 
had all gone to the city to live, and hardly ever 
came home to the old people except one at a time 
for a little while. But one Christmas they got 
ashamed of themselves, and made a plan to leave 
all their children at home, and play they were 
children again themselves. They planned to sneak 
into the old home and hang up their stockings, 
and give their father and mother a big surprise on 
Christmas morning. They made it all up with the 
old servant that had been with their folks for 
years, and the story of how well they managed 
it all would make you laugh and cry both. Shall 
I read it for you now?” 

She received an eager assent; so she helped make 
the invalid comfortable on the couch by the sunny 
window, arranged the roses in a vase on the table, 
and, sitting near in a low chair, read the interesting 
story. When she had finished Mrs. Jamison drew 
her to the couch. 

“Thank you so much, dear child. My children 
are all in the home up yonder, except this one 
I live with, and she is very dear. But this fine 
home has never been to me what the old one was, 
and the sight of your roses, and the remembrance 
of your story, will help me to live the old days all 
over again today. Thank you for coming. I can¬ 
not tell you how much pleasure you have given me.” 


300 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Jessica kissed her warmly, promised to come again 
soon, and went thoughtfully away down the avenue, 
which was resplendent with the sparkle and glow of 
a perfect Christmas morning. Tears came to her 
eyes more than once as she thought of the sorrow¬ 
ful old lady she had left behind in her elegant lone¬ 
liness. 

“She has nothing to look forward to,” she thought 
to herself, “except a well-cared-for old age, without 
anybody in it except her daughter. I wonder why 
all elderly ladies are not like gramsie, with lots 
and lots of things to do for herself and other 
folks.” 

The Cameron family had been invited to take 
dinner with the Sheldons, and Nora had been 
permitted to go home for the day, happy in the pos¬ 
session of a new dress and a handsome set of furs— 
the latter grandmother’s gift—also some dainty 
remembrances from Don and Jessica, who were 
very fond of Nora. At the Sheldons’ the day was 
given up to social pleasure. The late dinner was 
scarcely over, however, when a call came over the 
telephone, and the manager of the Associated 
Charities asked for Mr. Donald Cameron. 

“Whew!” exclaimed Donald. “Can that be 
meant for me? It nearly takes my breath!” 

“The amount of turkey and mince pie you have 
just stored away will go far to account for your 


CHRISTMAS ‘‘ GOODFELLOWS 1 


301 


shortness of breath,” remarked Jessica, wittily. 
“What is wanted, Don?—I mean, Mr. Cameron?” 

“A number of needy families have been found 
today that were overlooked last night, and as there 
is a quantity of provisions left over, Mrs. Leigh has 
asked me to distribute them. May I, papa?” 

“Far be it from me to lay a straw in the tri¬ 
umphant path of the Cleveland Goodfellows,” 
promptly replied Mr. Cameron. 

“And will you go too, Claude?” 

“Surest thing! I was just wishing for more worlds 
to conquer on the Goodfellow plan. Let’s take the 
girls out with us, and show them just how it’s 
done.” 

Permission was given, and the four went gayly 
away on their mission. Several trips were made 
from the supply center, and the sun was setting 
as Don deposited Claude and Margie on the Shel¬ 
don doorstep, and turned the motor homeward. 

“This Goodfellow business is like an endless 
chain,” remarked Jessica, as, having removed her 
wraps in her own room, she entered the library, 
where the family was assembled. “It just keeps 
going around and around.” 

“You should see grandmother’s room, Don,” 
she went on, mischievously. “It sure pays her to 
be a Goodfellow. Her table is piled high. I don’t 
believe mamma—Santa Claus—could have left 


302 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


another thing on it,” with a sly glance at Harry, 
who was in the next room, apparently absorbed in 
a “really truly” electric engine, that was running 
smoothly on its shining track, temporarily laid on 
the big dining-room table. “Besides the family 
offerings there is a gorgeous sofa-pillow from the club, 
with everyone’s initials in monogram, and a little 
‘personal remembrance’ from every girl in the club 
besides, which is in direct violation of our agree¬ 
ment. What do you suppose Margie said when 
I got after her for breaking the rule?” 

“It would be hard to guess. What was it?” 

“That grandmother had been an adopted member 
of the Sheldon family since early last fall!” rejoined 
Jessica, laughing. 

“I don’t b’lieve there is any ‘really twuly’ Santy 
Taus,” declared Harry, composedly, from the next 
room, suspending operations with the new engine 
for a moment. “It’s dust your mammas and papas 
and ovver folks.” 

“What a silly idea, Harry!” reproved Don, while 
Jessica giggled. “Of course there’s a Santa Claus! 
Didn’t you see him yourself, at the church, last 
night?” 

“Jimmy Smif said that was dust his own papa, 
dwessed up!” insisted the young skeptic. “Jessica 
made your necktie, and dranma knitted your 
sweater, ’cause I saw ’em bof workin’ on ’em. 


CHRISTMAS “GOODFELLOWS” 


303 


And you made those picser things for Jessica, out 
in the shop. All the dirls made dranma’s tushion, 
’cause Jessica dust said so!” 

“ ‘Little pitchers have big ears/ ” laughed 
grandma. 

“And wide open eyes,” added mamma. 

“Another of childhood’s fond illusions swept 
away,” was Mr. Cameron’s comment, as he rose to 
open the door in response to a gay tumult out¬ 
side. 

“All aboard for Italy!” cried Marjorie’s merry 
voice as the Avenue Gang poured into the warm 
library, putting an effectual check to Harry’s ob¬ 
servations on the reality of Santa Claus. 

Don and Jessica hurried away for wraps, Jessica 
insisting on bringing Harry’s also, and taking 
him along. 

“Keep a sharp lookout for microbes, Margie,” 
cautioned Mrs. Keith. “There might be a few 
left.” 

“I am taking along what you might call a ‘deo¬ 
dorizer,’ ” laughed Margie, opening a large box she 
was carrying, and displaying a mass of carnations 
and roses. “We all robbed our Christmas bouquets, 
and are taking these to Beatrice.” 

“Hothouse blossoms for the ‘Mafia’!” exclaimed 
Don. “Now, wouldn’t you call that the limit?” 

Ten minutes later a gay crowd of youngsters were 


304 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


storming Mr. Giovanni’s door, which was immedi¬ 
ately flung open, with the noisy chorus: 

“Oh, we are the Christmas goodfellows, goodfellows, good- 
fellows. 

Yes, we are the Cleveland goodfellows, 

Though we’re known as ‘That Avenue Gang.’ ” 


Chapter XIV 


“WESTWARD HOI” 

It was an evening in the latter part of February, 
and the Cameron children had been out with their 
sleds since school, making the most of a fall of 
snow which was exceptionally fine for sledding pur¬ 
poses. Twilight was settling over the city when 
the three came bustling in, covered with snow, 
laughing, and stamping, and, as Don affirmed, 
“hungry enough to eat Jackie, fur, long ears, and 
all,” at which remark Harry at once set up an 
indignant protest. 

“Brother Don is only joking, you silly!” assured 
Jessica, removing his coat and muffler. “Do you 
want to go and help feed Jackie? It is getting dark, 
and he will be expecting his supper,” and as her 
little brother disappeared she turned to her mother 
in a glow of enthusiasm. 

“I bet even Kansas hasn’t anything on Cleveland 
when it comes to sledding!” Jessica asserted. 
“Everybody lets the kids catch on, whether it is 
a buggy, a cutter, or an auto. They even stop 
for us sometimes. One man, way down the avenue, 
305 


306 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


has a big rope, with loops in it, fastened to his 
car. A whole lot of us caught on at one time, and 
he turned loose, and went whizzing round a corner 
with us, and spilled every one of us off into a deep 
drift that the street-cleaners hadn't reached yet. 
He went on around the block, then came back and 
gathered us all up again. He must belong to the 
Goodfellows! I never had so much fun in my life I 
Where’s gramsie? I want to tell her that there is 
still one kind of old-fashioned fun left in the world 
for boys and girls.” 

“Nora has a sick-headache, so I have sent her 
to lie down, and grandmother is making muffins,” 
replied Mrs. Cameron. “When you have put away 
your wraps, Jessica, will you finish setting the table?” 

Her mother’s face was grave, and she showed such 
a decided lack of sympathy with Jessica’s high 
spirits that the young girl looked at her in mute 
surprise. 

“What makes you look so sober, mamma?” she 
inquired at last, uneasily. There was always a 
sufficient reason for any trace of a cloud on mamma’s 
face, and just now it carried a deeper look of gravity 
than was likely to be induced by one of Nora’s 
quite frequent headaches. 

“Did we stay out too long?” Jessica continued, as 
her mother did not answer immediately. “I know 
it is nearly dark, but the sledding is simply fine. 


WESTWARD HOT 


307 


and we are not likely to have many more such 
snows.” 

“Is my face such a good index of my feelings, 
daughter?” answered her mother, smiling wanly. 
“Well, then, you may as well know the evil tidings 
at once. We are going to lose grandmother.” 

Jessica’s face whitened, and she almost dropped 
the tray of glasses she was carrying. 

“What’s the matter with her?” she gasped. “Is 
she sick? Has she been hurt?” 

“Neither one. But she has had news which will 
make it necessary for her to go home in a day or 
two. She will tell you about it better than I can. 
I feared she must go some time this spring, but we 
are seldom prepared for something we do not wish 
to happen.” 

Mrs. Keith, bustling in at that moment, with a 
plate of muffins of her own manufacture, dispelled 
any doubt in Jessica’s mind as to her physical con¬ 
dition, at least, and her face wore its usual serene 
expression. “No need to ask if you had a good 
time, Jessica,” she observed. “Your cheeks are like 
roses!” 

But the memory of her coasting frolic had sud¬ 
denly lost its charm for Jessica. 

“What does mamma mean by saying that you 
are going back to Kansas, gramsie?” she cried. 
“You are not going back to stay?” 


308 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“I am afraid I must, for a time at least,” replied 
Mrs. Keith, setting the muffins on the table, and 
drawing Jessica swiftly into her arms. “The man 
in charge of the farm has written me that he has 
just received word from his brother in California 
that his wife is dead, and has left three little chil¬ 
dren. His brother writes that he will make Mr. 
Grayson the manager of his large fruit farm out 
there, if he and Mrs. Grayson will go to him and 
his motherless little ones. The Graysons have 
no children of their own, and the opening will be 
far better for him than anything I could offer. 
So he wishes to accept the offer and go out at once. 
So, you see, it will be necessary for me to leave as 
soon as possible, to find some one to manage my 
big farm for me this coming year. It will not be 
an easy matter at this time, as reliable tenants are 
usually located before this time of year.” 

Jessica listened in mute dismay. She tried hard 
to control herself, only to break utterly down. 

“You will come back, just as soon as you have 
found another tenant, won't you, gramsie?” she 
cried, hopefully, through her tears. 

“I shall scarcely be able to get back before fall, 
dear. I have depended so long on Mr. and Mrs. 
Grayson, that I hardly know the ins and outs of 
the ranch myself, now. A new man, of course, will 
require a great deal of oversight. Then there are 


WESTWARD HOC 


309 


the gas and oil leases, which Mr. Grayson has 
been looking after for me, and which it will be diffi¬ 
cult to put in other hands.” 

“What do you let Mr. Grayson go for? When he 
agreed to stay another year, and put it all down in 
writing (You showed me the lease, you know.), 
you told me that was to bind him so he could not 
go back on his promise; and that you would not 
have to go back until after school closed.” 

“All true, girlie, but it is different now. Think 
of those motherless little ones—the oldest only 
five years, the youngest but three days old when he 
wrote—and the better prospect for Mr. and Mrs. 
Grayson, who have been very faithful to my inter¬ 
ests. I understand his brother is quite wealthy. 
I could not in honor keep Mr. Grayson against his 
will.” 

Donald entered at that moment, with Harry on 
his back as usual. Jessica turned such a sorrowful 
face toward him from grandmother’s shoulder that 
in his astonishment he nearly dropped his little 
brother. 

“What’s gone wrong?” he demanded, looking 
from one serious face to another. “Has papa’s oil 
well caught fire, or has the old cat lost her kittens?” 

Even in her grief Jessica could not resist the 
temptation to tease her brother a little. 

“Nora has a headache—” she began. 


310 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“That’s nothing new!” interrupted Donald. 
“Glory be! Would you see that stack of muffins? 
I’ll bet you made ’em, grandmother”; adding, as 
he sank into a chair at the table, “Nora’s headaches 
are to be deeply regretted for Nora’s sweet sake; 
but they certainly have their mitigating circum¬ 
stances. Excuse me for 'dropping down,’ as the 
drunken man said when he fell into a well, but, to 
put it plainly, I’ve got a leg ache. It isn’t all in one 
leg either; in fact, I’ve got two leg aches!” 

“You will have to rub them with the ink bottle,” 
remarked grandmother. “When brother Dannie 
was quite small he had the leg ache often—growing 
pains,’ mother called it—and one night she got up 
as usual to rub him with the family liniment, which 
was kept in the bedroom closet in a tall stone bottle. 
But in the dark she got a similar bottle containing 
homemade pokeberry ink, which she applied liber¬ 
ally, giving his limbs quite a remarkable appear¬ 
ance for a few days. It would not have been quite 
so serious if it had not been in the height of the 
swimming season, and he would not go in with the 
other boys till the coloring wore off his legs.” 

Don laughed heartily at grandmother’s reminis¬ 
cence, but Jessica’s smile was fleeting. Her brother’s 
gay unconcern annoyed her, under the circumstances, 
and she deftly proceeded to drop the bomb of her 
own depression upon him. 


WESTWARD HOT 


311 


“You will have to hurry up that case of sickness 
which nothing but the climate of Kansas was to 
be able to relieve, Don,” she remarked, casually. 
“Gramsie is going home next week.” 

Don stared in surprise. 

“The dickens she is!” he exclaimed. “You’re 
kidding, sis!” 

“I only wish I was,” rejoined Jessica, drearily. 
“It’s true, isn’t it, grandmother?” 

“Too painfully true, I fear,” returned Mrs. 
Keith. 

“What’s the matter, grandmother? Ain’t we 
treating you right?” demanded Don, who had a 
boy’s dislike for showing his feelings, and asked the 
first question that came to his mind. 

“That’s just the trouble,” said Mrs. Keith, 
gravely. “I have been having too good a time, and, 
as you say sometimes, fit is time I am getting down 
to brass tacks,’ and attending to my business.” 

Mr. Cameron had entered the room just in time 
to be the recipient of Jessica’s dire tidings, and his 
surprise and regret were exceedingly great. 

“We cannot let you go, mother,” he asserted. 
“We could better spare one side of the house. We 
must think up some other plan. There is no need 
for you to go to stay long, at least. Why don’t 
you dispose of your Kansas holdings, and then 
you can live in peace?” 


312 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


“Why don’t I kill the goose that lays the golden 
egg?” answered his foster-mother, smiling. “Be¬ 
cause I am of Scotch extraction, for one reason, 
and, for another, because I like to play with the 
goose!” 

“But the value of your ranch and your leases, 
invested in good securities, would bring you in 
an independent income; and then you could take 
the world easy.” 

“I am ‘taking the world easy’ as it is!” she re¬ 
torted. “Of the other part of your assertion I 
am not so sure. It requires quite a sum of money 
yearly, somehow, to keep me in spending money.” 

“You have enough to buy yourself every com¬ 
fort, to a serene old age, if you didn’t dispense it so 
freely,” commented her son, jestingly. 

“That’s just the point, Dick. I may be con¬ 
ceited, but I don’t believe my investments would 
return me half so much satisfaction in the hands 
of somebody else. 

“No,” she added, after a pause, “I must go, 
Dick. But if you are so reluctant to part with me, 
why not follow me up later, and take upon your¬ 
self the task of looking after my obnoxious wealth 
for me?” 

“It is out of the question this season,” replied 
her son, decidedly. “I have thought lately that 
I would like to get out of the business I am in, and 


WESTWARD HOr 


313 


take up something less confining, that would at 
least allow me to get acquainted with my family. 
The business is paying well at present, however, 
these youngsters must be educated, and it takes 
quite a goodly sum these days for such purposes.” 

“I would volunteer to send Don through college, 
with your permission, if he wishes to go,” went 
on Mrs. Keith, lightly. “I would even go with 
him and keep house for him, so that he would 
not be far from the family apron strings. He does 
not wish to go to college, however, but prefers to 
specialize in architecture—” 

“Which is worse and more of it, when it comes to 
the cost,” interrupted Mr. Cameron. 

“Right there is where the oil wells will come 
in handy if we keep them in the family,” pursued 
Mrs. Keith. 

As the meal progressed there was a noticeable 
lack of appreciation of grandmother’s muffins, 
Jessica leaving the contents of her plate wholly 
untouched, and employing herself idly in wiping an 
occasional tear as it rolled down her small brother’s 
rosy cheek. The subject of grandmother’s sum¬ 
mons to her western home was discussed in all 
its phases, and before the family left the table it 
was decided that she would spend one more Sab¬ 
bath with them, leaving for home on the following 
Monday afternoon. 


314 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Jessica was first to rise from the table. 

“Won’t you please excuse me from my music, 
mamma?” she pleaded. “I couldn’t bear the piano 
tonight.” Her mother quietly consenting, she 
disappeared. Going to her own room half an hour 
later, Mrs. Keith was relieved to find Jessica already 
at her desk, intent upon her lessons. As the minutes 
passed, however, and she noted her pupil’s pallor 
and look of strained attention, she became uneasy, 
and at length gently laid the books aside. 

“I think the lessons will go all right tomorrow, 
for once, if we don’t give them any more time this 
evening, dear,” she said. “Shall we go down? 
There will not be many more evenings, you 
know.” 

“I think I must go to bed, gramsie,” was the 
weary response. “I want to think.” Much against 
her better judgment, for the thinking process seemed 
scarcely the best occupation for Jessica at present, 
grandmother went down alone to the family. 

Left to herself, Jessica relived, in swift mental 
review, the weeks and months of the past half- 
year; and, with a keener vision than anyone but 
her grandmother would have given her credit for 
possessing, she realized how much of the happiness 
of the family circle, and the pleasure of her mates, 
was due to the sweet kindliness of this companion 
who was soon to leave them. The nutting party, 


WESTWARD HOT 


315 


which had followed close upon the unfortunate 
“joy-ride,” had cemented the club members in a 
new bond of friendship, and in the organization 
of the Home Amusement Club Mrs. Keith had 
improved her opportunity for acquaintance so 
well, that from that day she had been the personal 
friend of each member. The club had been such a 
success from its first night that the two hours 
devoted to it every Friday night were eagerly 
looked forward to, and all too quickly passed. 
Well Jessica knew that one of its chief attractions 
had been the charming personality of “gramsie,” 
as they all called her now. 

She recalled Christmas night, when the club 
had stayed at Pietro’s house for an hour, singing 
songs and playing games. It gave her heart a 
new wrench as she remembered that Tony would 
be obliged to discontinue his violin lessons, in which 
he was excelling, and that Beatrice would miss 
grandmother’s semiweekly housekeeping helps, in 
which the young Italian girl was so interested that 
there was no more tidy kitchen on the avenue than 
hers. Then, too, there had been the many long 
happy evenings in the library, charmed into swift 
flight with music, and stories, and games. Realizing 
the prospective loneliness of the weeks to come, until 
her school labors were finished for the year, it is 
little wonder that Jessica at last gave way to her 


316 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


grief and drenched her pillow with her sorrowful 
tears! 

Coming to her daughter’s bedside an hour later, 
Mrs. Cameron found the sad eyes still wide open, 
and a hot flush on the soft cheek. Deeply grieved 
as she was herself at this sudden parting with one 
who had come to be regarded as necessary to the 
happiness of her family circle, she saw the necessity 
of turning Jessica’s thoughts into safer channels, for 
the time being, at least. 

“You should not give way to your feelings in 
this matter of grandma’s going home for a while, 
darling,” she said, tenderly. “It is hard for us all. 
It is hard for her to leave us even for a little while. 
But since it is duty we should try to look at it cheer¬ 
fully, and make it as easy for her as possible. Did 
you never think, Jessica, that there are those in 
Kansas who know her, who are wishing just as ea¬ 
gerly for her return, as we are that she might re¬ 
main with us?” 

“They are not her own folks,” returned Jessica, 
rebelliously. “We have the first claim to her.” 

“They are the people among whom she has lived 
all her life, with the exception of those few years 
in the West,” said mamma. “You do not know it 
so well as I do, for grandma is too modest to parade 
her real value; but when you think of the number 
of people in Cleveland with whom she has come in 


WESTWARD HOT 


317 


close personal touch in the past six months, and who 
will feel, as we do, that they can hardly get along 
without her, you can imagine something of the 
widespread regard for her in her home community. 
She is almost a necessity there.” 

Jessica closed her eyes wearily, but said nothing. 

“If everything goes well, she will probably come 
to us again for the winter,” continued her mother. 
“In fact, she has promised to do so, and it has been 
papa’s intention and mine to send you and Don 
to her for a long visit this summer, whether we can 
get away or not. You have but ten more weeks of 
school.” 

“Yes, but I’ll probably fail in my grades, without 
gramsie’s help,” said Jessica, in dull tones, “and 
have to study all summer under some stupid private 
instructor; for I just couldn’t bear, now, not to 
graduate with Margie. And we will have to give 
up our painting lessons, and the club will probably 
break up and go back to going to picture shows and 
matinees, just as we had broken ourselves of such 
things, and Pietro’s folks won’t get looked after, 
and—” 

Mother laid a kiss softly on the sorrowful mouth. 

“Reflect on your marcies,’ as grandmother would 
say, little daughter. You and Margie may both have 
painting lessons from some good instructor, if you 
wish, and that will keep you interested until grand- 


318 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

mother's return. The remembrance of what she 
has done for you young people, and what she would 
still wish you to do for yourselves, will encourage 
you to go on with your club. Papa and I will help 
you with your lessons, as grandmother has done, 
and the habit of study you have acquired will help 
you through. Here is grandma, to say ‘good-night/ 
You must go to sleep now, dear. It is getting very 
late." 

Mrs. Keith had purposely refrained from a bed¬ 
time visit with Jessica, hoping she would soon fina 
relief from the thinking process in sleep; but when 
she came to the bedside, she, too, looked con¬ 
cerned as she noted the surface indications of the 
turmoil in Jessica’s mind. She made no comments, 
however, bade her good-night with a tender kiss, 
and left the young girl again with her sad thoughts. 
Jessica lay staring long at the stars in the far-off 
sky, and fell, toward morning, into a restless 
sleep. 

She left her breakfast, as she had her supper, 
scarcely touched; and went away to school with her 
brother on lagging feet. As she joined a group of 
her mates in the upper hall, her face was the fore¬ 
runner of her unwelcome tidings, before her lips 
announced mechanically, “Gramsie Keith is going 
back to Kansas next Monday." 

“To stay?” came the query, in a shocked chorus; 


WESTWARD HOT 


319 


and Jessica explained briefly the necessity for her 
sudden departure. 

“You don’t seem very much flustered up about 
it!” remarked Helen King, in an aggrieved voice. 
“If she was my grandmother, I’d turn heaven and 
earth upside down, and old Kansas too, before I 
would let her go a step!” 

“Oh, cut it out, Nell!” said Marjorie, in a swift 
aside to Helen. “Can’t you see she’s about all in 
over it?” Then aloud, “Don’t you suppose her 
Kansas folks want her just as badly as we do?” 

“She hasn’t got any Kansas folks!” retorted 
Helen. “Not so much as one forty-second cousin! 
She told me so herself!” 

“But she has always lived right there,” insisted 
Marjorie, “and there must be lots of people there 
who think as much of her as we do. We have only 
known her six months.” 

Jessica left the girls, as one and another joined 
the group on the landing and fell to discussing the 
unwelcome news. Seeking her teacher, she found her 
alone in the schoolroom. 

“Mamma said she would like you to take dinner 
with us tonight at six, Miss Dunn,” she said for¬ 
mally. “Grandmother Keith is going away Monday, 
and that is why she sent you such a short invitation.” 

“Going away?” The kind voice was full of con¬ 
cern. “I am so sorry to hear it,” as Jessica went on 


320 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


to explain. “Thank you for the invitation, which I 
accept with pleasure. It will probably be my last 
opportunity to see her.” Then, as she saw the 
strain under which her pupil was laboring, she 
added, “I am very sorry she finds it necessary to 
leave us, Jessica. We will all miss her sorely. 

“I realize that she was 'the power behind the 
throne’ in your successful work this winter,” went 
on Miss Dunn, putting an arm gently about the 
girl. “Contact with her has, in some way, changed 
my Jessica from a careless dreamer to a model of 
industry.” 

“Grandmother taught me to like my work, Miss 
Dunn,” said Jessica, simply. “I could never be 
careless or indifferent about it again, for her sake. 
Mamma has promised to help me with my lessons, 
so perhaps I can still make my grades.” 

“The matter of 'making grades’ is of small im¬ 
portance, dear,” said her teacher gravely, “com¬ 
pared to the good habits which your grandmother 
has been so helpful in forming this winter among 
you young people. If there were more such women 
as she to keep in touch with and uphold the work 
of the public-school teachers, those schools would 
not turn out so many failures. I could better spare 
any other woman in Cleveland, so far as my work 
is concerned.” 

This was a good deal for Miss Dunn to say. 


WESTWARD HO!’ 


321 


“Grandmother would be pleased to hear that,” 
said Jessica. “She likes to know that she has helped 
any one.” 

“I shall be very pleased to tell her so, and thank 
your mother for giving me the opportunity,” was 
her teacher’s reply, as she turned to her desk. 

Jessica’s apparent mental distress prompted kind- 
hearted Miss Dunn to send a note to her mother at 
the noon hour, suggesting that she be allowed to 
remain at home for the remainder of the day; but 
when Jessica learned its contents she strenuously 
opposed the idea. “I have not missed a minute of 
school since Don had the scarlet fever,” she re¬ 
monstrated. “I am ahead of Margie in one thing, 
at least. I am all right, and I want to go back.” 

She drooped so visibly, however, before the ses¬ 
sion closed, that Miss Dunn cast more than one 
anxious glance in her direction, and was relieved 
when she departed for home, arm in arm with 
Marjorie. Once there, she went to her own room 
as soon as Margie left her, and later begged to be 
excused from appearing at the dinner-table, though 
Miss Dunn was always a welcome visitor with her. 

Papa, Donald, and Harry went to take Miss 
Dunn to her home, after she had had a cosy chat 
with the ladies in the library. After the quartet 
had gone, and mother and daughter were left alone, 
Mrs. Keith said gravely, “Madge, I am going to 


322 JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 

ask you for the greatest favor I ever asked in my 
life.” 

“I think I can guess what it is,” answered Mrs. 
Cameron. "I have been reading your thoughts all 
day, mother.” 

“What do you think, then, of letting Jessica go 
home with me, for a more or less extended stay?” 

“I hardly know what to say. Do you think it 
would be best?” 

“If I did not, I would not propose it.” 

“But her school work, just as she is stimulated to 
excel in it—what of that?” 

“I am thinking only of the child’s happiness and 
well-being, Madge, when I make the proposition. 
She has taken a great fancy to me, and I to her— 
in short, we are affinities,” she said with a smile. 
“If you think you can trust her to me for a few 
weeks, I need not assure you that I shall take the 
best possible care of her and spare no pains to keep 
her school work up to standard. The change will 
benefit her in more ways than one; and her absence 
from the rest of her family will teach her your value, 
as nothing else could.” 

“I have no right to say ‘no/ mother,” sighed 
Mrs. Cameron. “Dick and I feel that we are under 
a mountain load of obligation for what you have done 
for our children this winter.” 

“On the contrary, it is I who have received the 


“WESTWARD HOP 


323 


more benefit by constant association with them” 
returned her mother. “And you have all the right 
in the world to choose what you think is best for 
Jessica. Here comes Dick. Shall we mention the 
matter to him?” 

“I am ready to play policeman, and listen to 
your troubles,” Mr. Cameron said, coming in just 
in time to hear the query, and settling himself in an 
easychair. “After the jolt I received last night, I 
ought to be prepared for anything, unless it were 
sudden death!” 

His wife was not in a jesting mood. 

“Mother wants us to let Jessica go home with 
her for a month or two, Dick,” she said seriously, 
“until she gets settled, and knows what she is going 
to do with the farm. What do you think of it?” 

“That she might as well demand the other half 
of the house!” exclaimed her husband, promptly. 
“What ever put such an idea as that into your head, 
mother?” 

“The child’s best good,” was the quiet reply. 
“Setting aside the question of my being alone after 
the Grayson’s leave until I find some one to replace 
them, Jessica’s real work will go on better there 
with me, than it will if she is fretting and moping 
here without me. I know that sounds conceited, 
but just now Jessica is having a mild case of heroine- 
itis, and she needs to find out that ‘there are others. 


324 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


Current slang is so expressive,” she added, with a 
little laugh, “which must be my apology for using it.” 

“I believe you are right, as usual,” said Mr. 
Cameron, thoughtfully. “You two have seemed to 
be a sort of mutual admiration society, all winter; 
and your influence over her is certainly remarkable, 
when it comes to producing results. Why don’t 
you propose the plan to Jessica, Madge, and see 
what she thinks of it?” 

The suggestion to leave the matter to Jessica 
herself was at once adopted, and mamma went up 
to pay her good-night visit, with a dull ache in her 
heart. 

Jessica was not asleep, and she put up one round 
arm to clasp her mother’s neck, as she bent over her. 

Already the daughter saw the shadow of the 
coming separation, as she had noted the joy at her 
coming, on the face that was still dearer to her 
than her grandmother’s; and the tender influence 
of that grandmother’s unselfish life shone in her 
words and tone as she said, “We will miss gramsie 
an awful lot, won’t we, mamma? You will miss her 
more than Don and I will, for the house will be so 
lonely for you and poor Harry boy when she is 
gone.” 

The half-jealous mother-heart gave a sudden thrill, 
as Mrs. Cameron returned her daughter’s caress. 

“Papa and I have about decided to let you go 


WESTWARD HOT 


325 


back to Kansas with her for a few weeks, Jessica. 
Would you like to go?” 

For a moment Jessica stared at her mother in 
incredulous amazement. Then she half rose, and 
threw her arms again about her mother’s neck. 

“Oh, mamma, do you really mean it? How lovely 
that would be! Does she want me to go?” 

“Very much, or we could hardly have given our 
consent. She has done so much for us all, that we 
can scarcely refuse this request, though I do not see 
how we can do without you both. She will be en¬ 
tirely alone, after her tenants leave, until she can 
find another family—for it is necessary to have a 
woman on the place—and she says you can be much 
help and company for her. And she will assist you 
in keeping up your lessons, so that you will not 
lose your standing in your classes.” 

Jessica lay back on her pillows with a long sigh 
of relief and delight. To go home to that wonder¬ 
ful ranch with gramsie, to work and study with her 
from morning till night! Was the dream she had 
dreamed the night of her grandmother’s arrival in 
Cleveland really coming true? 

Sober second thought dispelled her first transport 
of joy. If mamma would miss grandma, what of 
her loneliness with both grandmother and herself 
away? What of Harry and Don and papa? What 
of Margie, who had been so faithful to the painting 


326 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


lessons that her progress had been little short of 
marvelous?—Margie, who had been grandmother’s 
loyal and earnest champion in her many plans for 
the pleasure and usefulness of their club? 

She lay silent so long that her mother thought 
possibly, worn out by her conflicting emotions, she 
had fallen asleep. She bent down, and Jessica put 
both arms gently around her neck once more. 

“I want to go, mamma, oh, you don’t know how 
very much I want to go,” she said softly, “but I 
just don’t believe I can. I am certain I could keep 
up my painting and my music, and my school work 
too; for gramsie is dandy help. And I would try 
to help her so much that she would have time for 
me, but I don’t see how I can go. I don’t think I 
would have looked at it this way last fall, for I 
didn’t think very much, then, what ‘in honor pre¬ 
ferring one another’ meant. But now I know that 
Don and Harry and—the rest, will need me more if 
grandmother is gone, and I am afraid it would not 
be right for me to go.” 

It was now Mrs. Cameron’s turn to be silent— 
she could hardly have spoken just then. 

“You had better think it over until tomorrow 
morning, darling,” she said, at length. “Of one 
thing be very sure, Jessica, mother is very proud of 
the daughter who can so cheerfully put our needs 
and desires above her own! There is one thing 


WESTWARD HOT 


327 


more to be thought of, however, and that is grand¬ 
mother.” 

Jessica looked inquiringly into her mother’s face. 

“What do you mean, mamma?” 

“We are so apt to look at her as self-sufficient, as 
so abundantly able to do for herself as well as for 
others, as she has proved so often, that we are apt 
to forget that she is human like the rest of us, and 
that when she returns to her western home she will 
be away from all her own people again. My little 
Jessica has twined herself very closely into grand¬ 
mother’s heartstrings in the past six months; is it 
any wonder she should ask that one tie be left un¬ 
broken when she leaves us?” 

This put a new face on the matter. “Why don’t 
papa go out there to live, mamma? He can see that 
grandmother would just love to have him.” 

“Principally because he dreads to make a change 
in his business, for fear it might not turn out for 
the best. Perhaps if you were to go home now with 
grandmother, and Don were to go out after school 
closes, and the rest of us go in August when papa 
gets his vacation, some arrangement like that might 
be made for the future, and papa be persuaded to 
try a change of base.” 

“That would please you, wouldn’t it, mamma?” 

“I would try to endure it,” answered her mother, 
with a smile. “And now, get this matter all settled 


328 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


in your mind by morning, girlie, for it will hurry us 
somewhat to fit out another traveler in three days’ 
time.” 

“I am not going to settle it at all,” said Jessica, 
decidedly. “You and papa and gramsie are to settle 
it for me, and I will be content with whatever you 
think best.” 

“It certainly should not be a difficult matter to 
get the question settled on that basis,” returned her 
mother, as she kissed her tenderly. And returning 
to the library, she gave her husband and her mother 
Jessica’s decision. 

“Well, Jessica,” said her father, as with a cheer¬ 
ful countenance his daughter made her appearance 
at the breakfast table, “have you settled that 
momentous question overnight, to your own and 
everybody else’s satisfaction? If not, you had better 
hurry up, or your wardrobe will be in the condition 
of Miss Flora McFlimsey’s. I assure you they wear 
clothes, even in uncivilized Kansas.” 

“No, papa. I decided last night to leave it to 
you and mamma.” 

“What question?” demanded Donald, suspiciously. 

“The question which came before the house at 
its last session was whether grandmother should take 
me home with her or not,” said Jessica, adding 
mischievously, “I did not find it necessary to arrange 
for a fit of sickness, either.” 


WESTWARD HO.r 


329 


“You home with her! Not much!” striking an 
attitude with his thumbs in the armholes of his 
vest. “Am I not the heir of the house, and entitled 
to first privileges? Am I not also the family book¬ 
worm and therefore most in need of a vacation? 
You home with her, indeed! What earthly use do 
you suppose she would have for you?” 

“I would keep house,” returned his sister, un¬ 
moved by this harangue, “while she manages the 
ranch.” 

“You know about as much about keeping house 
as a rat does about Latin!” retorted her brother, 
with polite sarcasm. “You had better take me 
along, grandmother,” he added, turning to Mrs. 
Keith. “I could hunt eggs, drown gophers, and 
catch mice, as well as pull off several other stunts 
connected with an up-to-date ranch.” 

“With your parents’ permission, I will take you 
both,” smiled back grandmother. “Also, the rest 
of the family.” 

Mr. Cameron shook his head decidedly, and 
Harry created a sudden diversion by slipping under 
the table and setting up a loud and prolonged wail 
at the thought of Jessica’s going away. It required 
the combined efforts of the family to persuade him 
back to the consideration of his breakfast. Before 
the close of the meal it was decided that Jessica was 
to accompany her grandmother for a month’s stay, 


330 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


at least, and Donald was to go out as soon as school 
closed, or sooner if it was thought best for Jessica 
to return. 

“ ‘Ah, then and there was hurrying to and fro, 

And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,’ ” 

declaimed Don, in a high falsetto, as he rose from 
the table. “Far be it from me to break the news of 
this second desertion from the ranks of the Avenue 
Roustabouts, begging pardon, grandmother, to the 
rest of the gang,” he added, addressing his sister. 
‘‘You will either be obliged to do it yourself, or hire 
a hand.” 

“Jessica can go to school this morning, if she 
wishes,” put in Mrs. Cameron. “Grandmother and 
I will make some purchases for her today, and Miss 
Yount will have her traveling dress ready for fitting 
tomorrow morning. If you can be excused at two, 
Don, we would like you to take us shopping in the 
car. This warm sun will soon thaw the snow, so 
that it will be very sloppy to walk.” 

“Delighted! I have had no classes after two since 
holidays; but have been putting in the time at Man¬ 
ual.. At your service, ladies!” 

He disappeared, to be seen no more until he joined 
Jessica at the door as she started for school. She 
was still uncomfortable in her own mind regarding 
this latest plan, though it had the endorsement of 
her elders. 


WESTWARD HOP 


331 


“I don’t feel a bit right about going away and 
leaving everybody,” she began. “Do you think I 
ought to go, Don?” 

“I think you would be a big mutt if you didn’t!” 
he replied, with brotherly frankness. “You bet I 
wouldn’t turn down such a chance!” 

“You can’t think how funny I felt when mamma 
said gramsie needed me,” pursued Jessica. “Just 
as if I was of some importance, you know. I told 
her at first I didn’t think I ought to go away from 
you and Harry and the rest, and I feel that same 
way yet,” she added, glancing doubtfully at her 
brother. 

“We’ll get along all right,” he said, philosoph¬ 
ically. “I’ll be a sister to Harry, and I have so much 
to do in school from now till June that the time will 
pass in a jiffy. But you can bet, sis, we’ll have high 
jinks when I do get away out there again!” 

“I would have liked the children’s club to meet 
with us tomorrow night, for a little informal fare¬ 
well,” said Mrs. Cameron to her mother, after the 
two were alone, “but with all this getting ready I 
do not see how it can be managed.” 

“It is impossible,” declared her mother. “I 
must be away by Tuesday at the latest; and I wish 
very much to go on Monday.” 

At noon Jessica came home with the announce- 


332 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


ment that Mrs. Sheldon had invited the club 
members and their families to an informal reception 
to be tendered Mrs. Keith and herself that evening. 
A great wail had gone up from the members when 
it was learned that Jessica was to accompany her 
grandmother for an extended stay. Marjorie, in 
particular, was inconsolable, until her mother 
promised her that she and Claude might go out with 
Donald, for a couple of weeks in June, instead of 
taking their usual summer outing at one of the lake 
resorts. 

The reception, on Friday evening, attended by 
the entire membership and several fathers and 
mothers, was a pleasant affair, though somewhat 
overshadowed by the thought of the coming loss of 
their moving spirit. A more elaborate luncheon than 
usual was served at this farewell meeting, and the 
evening was filled with discussion of various plans 
for their summer’s work, and the future welfare of 
the club. It leaked out accidentally at the meeting 
that the Avenue Roustabouts, with Frank King as 
prime mover in the enterprise, were making arrange¬ 
ments to set Pietro up in business in a fruit stand, 
at a busy corner near Mr. King’s banking house. 
And Mrs. Keith’s heart overflowed with joy at a 
further bit of good news whispered to her by Donald, 
as they walked homeward. 

“I promised Frank I would not tell anyone but 


WESTWARD HO!’ 


333 


you, grandmother,” he said, confidentially, “but I 
knew you would be so pleased to know that he has 
not smoked a cigarette nor touched a drop of liquor 
since the night of our Halloween party. He said if 
Jessica and I could overlook such a break as he had 
made only the week before, it was up to him to be 
fit to train in our gang. It was all your doing, 
grandmother, inviting him, you know.” 

“It shall be all yours to hold him to his good 
resolution,” said Mrs. Keith, earnestly. “Don’t 
let him go, Don. If we had left him out that night, 
this might never have happened. Don’t step down 
yourself, laddie, to the level of an erring friend, 
but stoop; stoop, and lift up hard.” 

At the close of the evening, the club presented 
Mrs. Keith with a handsome Bible, a gold-color 
ribbon bearing the monogram of each member laid 
within at the text which was their club motto. 

Marjorie, as president, made the presentation 
speech, and for once her merry ladyship was most 
impressively solemn. 

“We didn’t give you a Bible because we think 
you need one so much, but because we know you 
use one often, and follow it around a good deal; 
and we thought it would be a good way to remind 
you not to forget us. We marked this particular 
verse because you first taught us how much there 
was in it. And we are all agreed in promising that, 


334 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


until you come back, there shall be something doing 
with this club all the time, along the line you have 
marked out for us.” 

Mrs. Keith’s voice was quite unsteady, as she 
received the book, and responded to Marjorie’s 
speech. 

“I am afraid I am scarcely equal to receiving 
properly all the honors that are being bestowed on 
me this evening,” she said. “This aggregation is 
certainly making my leaving Cleveland very difficult 
indeed. I am glad, however, that I can take with 
me the memory of the pleasant friendships I have 
formed in the past six months, as well as your 
voluntary promise to keep busy until I come again. 
That I am certain will be before snow flies, if I am 
permitted to live. 

“I shall leave our Italians in your tender care, 
and shall bring you to a strict accounting,” with a 
rare smile, “if anything goes amiss with them this 
summer that my Helping Handers might have pre¬ 
vented. And now, I fear we must begin our fare¬ 
wells, or we will tax the patience of our kind hostess, 
who has made possible this last never-to-be-forgotten 
evening together.” 

“We are not going to say good-by this evening, 
Mrs. Keith,” responded Marjorie, as spokeswoman 
for the group. “We are all going to the train to 
see you off next Monday afternoon, if you don’t 


WESTWARD HO ! 1 


335 


care. We have already been given leave of absence 
from school.” 

“We do care, very much indeed, don’t we, Jes¬ 
sica? That will be a most acceptable 'send-off/ ” 

The two following days were filled for the Cam¬ 
erons with the bustle and hurry of final preparations; 
but for those who were to be left behind the hours 
of shadow far outnumbered the sunny ones. On 
Sunday evening Mrs. Keith walked down alone to 
the Giovanni home. Her leave-taking was ex¬ 
tremely distressing, Beatrice giving way to a whirl¬ 
wind of grief, which made the deep regrets of the 
others seem slight in comparison. Mrs. Keith 
was the first real friend the girl had known since 
the death of her mother; and she vainly tried to 
comfort Beatrice with promises of return, and fre¬ 
quent letters. The time came when she must be 
away, and she was forced to unclasp the closely- 
clinging arms, and go, a storm of sobs following her 
from the door. 

Railway officials, accustomed to handling tons 
of human freight, are usually indifferent to the com¬ 
ing and going of passengers; but a group at the 
Lake Shore station on the following Monday after¬ 
noon was the center of attraction for a short time. 
The parlor-car tickets were taken simply in the 
names of Mrs. Dorothy Keith and Miss Jessica 
Cameron; but no queen taking leave of her loyal 


336 


JESSICA OF THE CAMERONS 


subjects could have received a more royal farewell 
than did this sweet-faced, elderly woman, from the 
group of young people that clustered around her on 
the platform. Somewhat apart from the others 
stood a pretty, dark-eyed girl in a red cloak and 
tam-o-shanter; and as Mrs. Keith approached her 
to bid her good-by she thrust into her hands a 
basket containing a choice supply of fruit for the 
journey. “My father he send this,” she said. “He 
wish you good luck.” 

The family party which accompanied them had 
entered the train for a hurried, but less public 
farewell, when a messenger boarded it hastily, and 
deposited an immense package, bearing Mrs. Keith’s 
and Jessica’s names. With her permission Jessica 
quickly opened it, while grandmother took leave of 
the family group; and after her parents and brothers 
had returned to the platform she reappeared at the 
open window, her eyes suspiciously moist, her 
grandmother’s arm around her, and her own arms 
filled with American Beauty roses. 

There was a sudden prolonged shriek from the 
engine, a rumble of moving wheels, and after one 
last glimpse of the one face in the group outside 
that was dearer yet than all the rest, the girl sank 
back in the seat, and was whirled away westward. 
Jessica’s dream had come true! 





























































































































































































































































































